The Negative Side
by Plaidly Lush
Summary: None of them knew what it was that made Hermione change. All they knew was that she was different. Then Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy became friends, and the world as everyone knew it was over.
1. To Be Alone

A/N: Anyone who has read my more recent stories will know that this is a change from my regular format, since I tend to put author's notes at the end. However, I decided that they should go at the beginning. Because people who don't like to read them won't have to see them after the chapter is over. Not that anyone cares. So anyway…   
  
Brand new story, brand new idea. It is a Hermione/Draco romance, but not in any sense that I've read or written before. WARNING: This fic portrays certain characters as being very, very, very OOC. If you are opposed to OOC fics, DO NOT READ IT. You aren't going to get me to change that, because it is the whole center of the story. Just deal with it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is already property of someone else. That includes the stand-up cardboard Legolas they always have at music stores. The plot and anything you do not recognize are utterly mine.   
  
Having said that, I will now shut up and let you read. Have fun.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_To Be Alone_  
  
Hermione awoke with a feeling of utter contentment. For the last three weeks of the summer, she, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were all staying at an inn in London. Ginny had been the one to suggest staying at a Muggle hotel, because she said she could not stand the Leaky Cauldron for three weeks. They still went into Diagon Alley every day, but it was entertaining for Hermione and Harry to watch the other two being amazed at every Muggle thing.   
  
It was the beginning of their second week in London. That day was clear and warm, and she had just come out of a dream that left her with a wonderfully fuzzy feeling in her entire body. She stretched, then mumbled, "Ginny?"   
  
A snore answered her. With a laugh, she threw one of her pillows at her roommate. A groan came from the redhead, and then she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What is it?"   
  
"A pillow, sleepyhead. Good morning."   
  
"Well it would be if you'd let me sleep till a decent hour. Honestly, Hermione. Ten o'clock?"   
  
"And this is why we sometimes tell everyone that we have seven sons," Hermione said in a very Molly-Weasley-like voice.   
  
Ginny threw Hermione's pillow back at her. "Shut up." She settled back down and pulled the sheet over her. Rolling her eyes, Hermione slid out of bed, then sauntered over to Ginny and pulled off her covers. "Hey! Hermione, I'm trying to sleep here."   
  
"Oh, come on. It wasn't my idea for you to stay up all night last night trying to hear the boys through the door. A shower will wake you right up. Then we can have breakfast and come back before Harry and Ron even wake up."   
  
Ginny's face broke into a mischievous grin. "Good idea. You know, waking up isn't so bad." She charged into the bathroom and stayed there for about half an hour. Hermione knew she was scheming, probably Harry-related, and really did not want to get involved. She found her suitcase, took out some clothes, and dressed for the day.   
  
Eleven found Ginny and Hermione in the hotel café, sipping their morning drinks and eating their morning pastries, talking about school. "Can you believe it's your last year at Hogwarts?" Ginny asked. "That's…wow."   
  
"I know," Hermione responded. She sighed. "I wish I was already old enough for my Apparition license. Harry and Ron have theirs already, but I won't be able to get it until October, and then I'll be in school…"   
  
"Calm down, Hermione. Anyway, you can't tell me you don't know how to Apparate."   
  
"Well, I've read all about the theory, of course. I know how, but I've never done it." Ginny gave her a pointed look. "Really, I swear," Hermione defended herself.   
  
"Okay, I can see you're not going to give me this one."   
  
"You're still trying to figure out what I've done that's illegal. Aside from all the terrible things we do at school, I mean."   
  
"Well, now that you've told me that much, I need to know the rest. I'm just itching for information."   
  
"I'll give you a hint," Hermione relented. She leaned forward. "It's not illegal in the sense that it's actually against the law. Just… something I don't want everyone to know about."   
  
"That's perfect, then! I'm not everyone. I'm just one person. One very small person, actually. I'm more like half a person. Please?"   
  
Hermione shook her head. "Forget it, Ginny. I'm not telling."   
  
"Not telling what?" a very familiar voice asked from behind them.   
  
Hermione turned to face her friends. "I think you really missed the point of what I just said, Ron." He and Harry took the other seats at their table. "If I'm not telling, then I won't say it."   
  
"I know," Ron said, annoyed. "So what's good today?"   
  
"The same thing that was good yesterday, I'd imagine," Harry answered. "I think I'll get some buffet. What do you say, Ron?" The two of them got up again, heading toward the food.   
  
"So what was the point of sitting?" said Ginny quietly.   
  
"They just woke up, Gin. Give them a break."   
  
"Quick, before they come back. Tell me."   
  
"No!"   
  
Ginny had no more time to haggle Hermione for information, because Harry and Ron returned to their table with heaping platefuls of food- at which point, Ginny could not say anything at all. She was too busy pretending to gag.   
  
"How could you possibly eat all that? Even you, Ron."   
  
"Long night," Harry replied, mouth full of food.   
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You two went out after I was asleep again, didn't you." It was hardly a question. The boys exchanged furtive glances. Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. "You have to stop wandering the streets at night, Harry! All kinds of freaks do the same thing, and Eaters will venture into the Muggle world at night to find wizards in hiding!" Eaters was the now-common term for Voldemort's followers.   
  
"Well, I'm so glad to know you're concerned for me," Ron told her. He then proceeded to stuff his face.   
  
"I'm sorry, Ron, but Harry is in more danger than any of us even in broad daylight. Especially since they've begun to throw the identified Eaters out of the Ministry-"   
  
"Hermione, shhh!" Harry put his finger to his lips to caution her. "You can't talk about these things where anyone can hear, even Muggles! Just because they don't know what we're saying, doesn't mean they can't repeat it to an Eater later on!"   
  
She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply. "You're right. I don't mean to cause anyone to overhear, but the two of you…You just have to start taking this danger more seriously. It is a very serious thing, and if you still refuse to see it, I might have to tell Mr. Weasley, or Moody. Or maybe even Snape."   
  
Three faces turned sharply to her. "You wouldn't," Ron glowered.   
  
"Oh, wouldn't I?" she retorted, leaning toward him confrontationally.   
  
"Will you please settle down?" Ginny requested. "You're drawing attention to us. Now, you guys finish your breakfast so we can go to Diagon Alley, already." Though Ginny was the youngest, when she made such commands, the males of the group tended to follow. For any boy except Ron and Harry, Hermione would credit this reaction to Ginny's looks. In the past year, the redhead had become one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen. But this was her brother and his best friend. They just never looked at Ginny that way.   
  
"Do you two want me to check over your homework?" Hermione asked.   
  
"Sure," answered Harry, barely lifting his face from the plate. Ron swallowed the food in his mouth.   
  
"Ron?" He didn't answer, but his ears began to grow pink. "You didn't do it, did you?"   
  
"I did it! Just not all of it."   
  
"This is _exactly_ what I was talking about before, Ron. I would be more than happy to help you, but you have to do it. I've already looked over my own homework several times."   
  
"And that's what _I_ was saying. You don't need to recheck your homework, Hermione. You always get it right the first time. All you ever think about is studying." She felt her features shape into an angry look. "I will do it," Ron said, more gently. "I'm not going to do it on your schedule, though."   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Well, if you want me to look at it, you'd better have it done soon."   
  
"Maybe I don't," Ron retorted. His voice had a surprising bite to it. Hermione turned her head to face him for a moment, then looked away.   
  
"I think I'm about ready to be going. Anyone else coming? Ginny?" She stood so quickly her chair almost fell over. Ginny followed more slowly, allowing Hermione to keep far ahead of her. Hermione, for her part, walked as fast as she could from the hotel, and started toward Diagon Alley without waiting.   
  
"Hermione! Slow down, please!" Ginny caught up with her about a block from the inn, and took her arm. "I know Ron's a pain in the arse. I mean, he's my brother. But don't you think you're overreacting just a little?"   
  
"No," Hermione said stiffly. "Well, yes. Ron's had it coming, though. He has been as disagreeable as he possibly could since last May. I don't know what's going on with him."   
  
"You don't?" Ginny repeated, sounding surprised.   
  
Hermione glanced at her. "Are you implying that I should?"   
  
Ginny peered ahead of them, concentrating very hard on something far ahead. "Forget it. It's not important. But… is that who I think it is?" She pointed to a spot near the entrance of Diagon Alley where a small crowd was gathered.   
  
Hermione kept her recognition in check when she spotted a familiar head. "I don't see anyone we know," she said with a shrug, marveling at her own lie. Ginny mirrored the gesture, then waved Hermione forward. They quickened their pace to catch the entrance while it was still open.   
  
As always, Diagon Alley was a welcome, warming sight. Magical people of all ages swarmed about the many stores, exiting with items Hermione still found fascinating, even after six years in the magical world.   
  
Hermione searched him out every time they left a store. Numerous times, she caught his eye, and she could swear he winked at her. He was waiting for a chance to approach her, for her to be alone. Well, she could only do so much.   
  
"Hermione, are you still mad?" Ron asked from behind her.   
  
She jumped slightly, then turned. "Ron, _why_ do you have to Apparate everywhere? It's unnecessary and it's frankly annoying when you sneak up behind me like that."   
  
"Sorry," he said. He scratched the back of his neck. "So, are you?"   
  
Hermione sighed. "No. It's all right, Ron. Er… Where did Ginny go?" Abruptly, she noticed that her former companion was gone.   
  
"Into Fred and George's joke shop, with Harry," answered Ron, moving a hand limply in the direction of the new shop. The 'Grand Opening' sign had been up for two weeks. "Coming?"   
  
"You know what, Ron?" Hermione had just had an idea she considered quite clever. "Why don't you go and join them. You know I don't care so much for that type of thing, since so much of it is forbidden at school. I need to go to Flourish and Blotts to find a couple of books. It may take a while, and I know how you all hate to wait while I look through the whole bookstore."   
  
"Well, yeah." Ron looked at his feet, shifting his weight awkwardly. "I wouldn't mind waiting."   
  
"That's really nice, Ron, but go ahead. You'd be bored."   
  
He smiled at her, making a million confused thoughts jumble for front position at once, and stepped away from her. She started toward the bookshop, scanning the crowd for the hundredth time. She saw him just before she went into the store, and gave him a nearly imperceptible nod. He cut a deliberate but casual path to Flourish and Blotts. She entered, knowing he was following her.   
  
It was the truth that she wanted to visit the bookstore, but she had one and a half more weeks to do so. It was getting harder to think of excuses to go off on her own. "Soon," she murmured to herself, "I'll just stop making them, and go because I can."   
  
Slipping another book off the shelf, she glanced to the right when another customer appeared beside her. "Granger," he said to her, more politely than others might expect.   
  
She glared back at him. "Malfoy," she spat, causing his eyebrow to raise. In her defense, she allowed him to see the threatening smile that twisted her face into an odd expression.   
  
His chest shook for a moment with silent laughter. He pretended to reach for a book directly in front of her and leaned to speak in her ear. "I'll be waiting behind this building for five minutes. Are you buying anything?"   
  
"Maybe," she whispered back. He placed three galleons on the shelf before her. It was enough for two of the most expensive books in the store. Malfoy brushed by her then, his hand lingering on her arm for a split second. A moment later, he was gone.   
  
Hermione closed her eyes briefly, focusing on the sensation of his breath on her neck. When her eyes opened again, she was faced with the three galleons he had left her. She scooped them up, then combed through the store for the one book she had in mind. It was quite expensive in the view of the standard witch, but as long as Malfoy was paying for it, she was happy to spend the money. She heaved it from the bottom shelf into the crook of her arm.   
  
After paying the clerk, Hermione hurried around behind the building, wondering if he would really be there. He was. Leaning against the wall with one leg propped against the brick, his head was tilted upward. When he heard her, he stood up straight, and went right for her.   
  
"Wait," warned Hermione, holding a hand out. He halted, giving her a withering look. A crooked smile crossed her face as she set her new purchase carefully on the ground. She straightened. "All right."   
  
Hermione found herself pressed between the wall and the boy, his arms around her waist holding her close. Her arms went around his neck and shoulders tightly when he kissed her. Their mouths searched each other, exploring every inch of the other. Hermione felt herself give in to the desperation, and the passion.   
  
Abruptly, she pushed him gently away. "How long have we been back here?" she asked.   
  
"Probably twenty minutes," he answered, kissing her again.   
  
"I need to get back. If the others have gone to look for me, they'll be wondering where I am. Sorry, Draco."   
  
Instead of answering, he began to straighten his clothes. "Meet me tomorrow at nine, at the restaurant." The establishment he referred to was a hidden wizard restaurant that was placed directly in the middle of Muggle London. It was the site of many meetings between them. He did not wait for her to acknowledge the request, but bent down to pick up her book, handed it to her, and gestured for her to go before him into the Alley. "After you, milady."   
  
Heaving the sigh that revealed to him her inability to tell whether he was being sarcastic or polite, she left him standing behind the bookstore. She decided that her best choice at that moment would be to check the joke shop for her friends. Sure enough, they were still deeply occupied by the merchandise, and one of the twins was with them.   
  
"Hey, Hermione," Harry called. "George was just showing us some of the new products."   
  
"That's wonderful," Hermione said. "No offense, George. It's just that I've been in here almost every day for a week."   
  
"None taken, don't worry. I know this isn't really your area."   
  
"George!" an identical voice yelled. "One of the Biting Brooms is big-time wonky!"   
  
"I'd better go help Fred," George said, laughing, and he darted a few aisles over.   
  
"Biting Brooms," Hermione repeated flatly.   
  
"Yeah. They look like normal brooms, but they bite you if you try to sit on them. Hey Harry, maybe we should get one for Malfoy." Ron and Harry chortled.   
  
Hermione cleared her throat loudly. "Anyone ready for lunch?"

* * *

If anyone had asked, Hermione could not have told them much about the origins of her strange relationship with Malfoy. She could not remember exactly why, how, where, or even when it started. It had been sometime in April, she knew, and they had been at Hogsmeade. None of that seemed to matter.   
  
The only thing she was sure of was who. Draco Malfoy, the one person she could have sworn one year earlier that she would never encounter on terms other than enmity. Draco Malfoy, in whose angular face she could see all kinds of beauty, in whose arms she first felt a certain feeling. _God, she was in trouble_.   
  
"Is Mr. Malfoy here?" she asked the host when she entered the restaurant.   
  
"Yes, miss. Right this way." He led her to a table in the far corner. Malfoy was sitting there already, fiddling with a galleon. Hermione was seated, they ordered their food. Then they were left alone.   
  
"Good day?" Hermione asked, referring to his preoccupation.   
  
"Not especially. I just really like this galleon. It's a special galleon. Much different from all others."   
  
He said barely anything to her during their entire meal. She was used to this kind of behavior from Ron, and some others she knew. But the difference between them and Malfoy was that he always said what was on his mind, as far as she was concerned.   
  
When they had left the restaurant, and were disappearing into a dark alley between two buildings, she brought it up. "Malfoy, why are you not talking?"   
  
He stopped, turning toward her. "Well, if you must know now… I mean, I was going to put this off until the end of the night, but I suppose you won't do anything until I tell you."   
  
"If you mean make out with you, then you're right."   
  
"Okay, you asked for it. This is our last night together. Ever."   
  
Hermione's expression was clearly demanding more detail, because he continued. "I'm going back to the manor tomorrow, and then we'll be in school. It was hard to find time to meet even for the last two months last year. I'm not getting very far with you. It's not like we're progressing, so there's no reason to continue this."   
  
"You are _unbelievable_," Hermione hissed, not caring whether he was done. "You're ending it- whatever 'it' is- because I won't let you get under my shirt?"   
  
"Or in your pants. Don't forget that."   
  
"Well, guess what, Malfoy. That's just fine. It's not like I was getting much out of this- this _joke_ anyway." She stormed off, feeling like she had at least kept her pride.   
  
"Then why did you do it for so long?" Malfoy called after her, making her stop in her storming for a second. Then, the thunder and lightning started. Before she exploded, Hermione rounded the corner. Even knowing that he was probably watching her, she turned herself in the direction of the hotel and began to run.   
  
Her room was empty, which meant that Ginny and the boys were still out. She wondered where they were, at eleven in the evening, but only briefly. She was too angry to care. She changed into her pajamas, then took out her brush and began to run it through her hair.   
  
In the middle of her third stroke, she turned and hurled the brush at the wall separating her room from Harry and Ron's. She saw something break off when it struck. It was the handle. She looked at the two pieces on the floor as though they were keeping from her the answers to all her questions. Frustrated that they were not forthcoming, she leapt onto her bed and began to punch the pillows with tight fists. She kept it up for a few minutes before she realized she was crying.   
  
She didn't care about him, really. She still hated him, in fact. The entire time they had been involved in that drawn out, sedated tryst, she had hated him. He was an arrogant, prejudiced mule. Considering all this, she had no idea why she was so upset.   
  
"It's because he broke up with me," she said reasonably. "If you can even call it that, when we weren't actually together. As though he wasn't just as eager for it."   
  
Knowing Ginny would be able to tell she had been crying, she headed for the shower. The warm water beating against her skin relaxed her, washing away tears and sweat. It gave her the ability to think again, to decide what to do. She reached down and turned the knobs to adjust the water temperature.   
  
Her breathing deepened as the heat increased. Her skin was scalded pleasantly as she faced the showerhead. She turned, spreading the warmth to her back. Refreshed and calmed, she knew exactly what she could do.   
  
After dressing again, she borrowed Ginny's brush to work the tangles out of her hair. She braided it to keep it from getting knotted up. Then, her mind set on the task she had appointed to herself, she sat down with a quill and a pot of ink and wrote two very important letters, to be delivered in the morning.   
  
She set them aside when she had finished, underneath her homework. Then, without waiting for the others to return, she climbed into bed, nestling down into the pillows. "It's time for a change," she told the empty room ominously before falling asleep.   
  
…TBC…  
  
It would be very, very helpful if some reviews happened. Smile 


	2. Time For A Change

* * *

A/N: I'm finally back from Newfoundland, cough Canada. And ready to start writing the next chapter and give all of you who reviewed something more to read. Might take a few days or so… but I am back! I'll try to finish this chapter very soon.   
  
It amazes me that some people actually plan out entire stories before writing them. What I mean is, I have certain plot points already spinning in my head, and I make the rest up as I go along. I don't, however, tend to take suggestions I do not ask for unless they're really, really good. So try not to help me write the story. If this was a collaboration, it would probably never have been started.   
  
Disclaimer Two: I only formally disclaim in one chapter. See chapter 1. Thanks.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Time For A Change_   
  
Hermione received answers to her letters in fairly large packages, which she enlisted Harry and Ron to carry back to her room at the hotel. "What could be in here?" Harry grunted.   
  
"And who sent you these? Are they from your parents?" Ron asked breathlessly. They were lugging the heavy boxes to the elevator.   
  
"No, Ronald, and it's none of your business, both of you, what the contents of my mail are." Hermione folded her arms. She was ahead of them by half a room, standing at the elevator. "Hurry up, you two."   
  
"Bloody hell, Hermione, when did you get so…provoked?"   
  
"Don't swear." She stepped into the elevator, then gestured to the boys to come in after her. She pressed the button for floor five, and the doors closed. Hermione wasn't letting on, but she was dying to get the packages into her room and open them. If she was going to stick to her decision, she wanted to do it quickly and completely.   
  
"She's gone all misty-eyed again," said Harry's voice suddenly.   
  
"Well, she's probably thinking about school again. Imagining how wonderful it'll be to boss everyone around once she's Head Girl," Ron replied.   
  
"Ron, shut up, you'll jinx it!"   
  
"Come off it, Hermione. Do you really believe that anyone else in our class could possibly be Head Girl if it's the choice between you and… someone?" He raised his eyebrows in a way that reminded her strangely of Malfoy, and she looked away. She shrugged.   
  
"We know you'll get it, Hermione." She smiled at Harry's reassurance.   
  
The lights went out abruptly, and then an odd electrical sound occurred. Hermione glanced around in the dark. "Are we still moving?" she asked.   
  
"I don't think so," Harry answered. "I think the power's been lost."   
  
"What? But why?" Ron wondered. He was not used to electricity, and so had no idea why it would go out.   
  
"There's a huge storm going on, remember? It's all right, we won't be stuck in here forever, but it might take a while for the power to come back on." Harry lit his wand.   
  
"Put that away, Harry, you'll get in trouble again!" Hermione hissed.   
  
"No, I turned seventeen at the end of July, remember? I can do almost whatever I want."   
  
"And I've been of age since March," added Ron.   
  
"Well then, why don't you two just Apparate out of here and bring the boxes to my room?" Hermione asked irritably.   
  
"We're not allowed to Apparate where there might be Muggles around unless it's an emergency. A maid could be in your room. Anyway, do you think we'd just leave you here?"   
  
Hermione looked between them. "No, Ron, not really. But we've all been changing, you know. People do that sometimes."   
  
"Change?" Harry clarified.   
  
"Yes, what else could I have meant?"   
  
In the silence that fell over them, they all sat on the floor in the light of Harry's wand. Hermione refrained from pointing out that Ron could light his as well, and that if she was of age, she would do a spell to light the elevator, and they wouldn't need to maintain it on their wands.   
  
"How long will we be in here?" asked Ron.   
  
"Not more than a few hours. If they can't get the power back soon, they'll check to see if anyone's in here," said Hermione. She patted his shoulder. "Trust us, will you? We won't be dying in here."   
  
Ron sighed. "I guess."   
  
Harry had not said a word through all this. He was staring at the light on the end of his wand as though it held the secrets to the universe. He noticed Hermione and Ron looking at him, and at last he spoke. "How long do you think I'm going to have to wait?"   
  
"Wait for what, Harry?" Hermione prompted. He looked directly at her, his expression a mix of sorrow and anger and resignation.   
  
"To find out who I'm going to kill this year."   
  
Ron looked just as shocked as Hermione felt. "You haven't killed anyone, Harry. You're not going to kill anyone."   
  
"Sure I have, Ron. I've killed my parents, Sirius-"   
  
"Those weren't your fault, Harry! How many times do you have to be told?"   
  
"They were my fault, and none of you can see it! They're all dead because of me!"   
  
"They were just protecting you, Harry, there's nothing wrong with that. They all loved you."   
  
"Stop it, Hermione! Do you think that makes it any better? Because it doesn't! It just makes it worse! If they had not been protecting me, they would be alive today."   
  
Hermione shook her head sadly. "That doesn't make it your fault."   
  
"You know how important you are to the wizarding world, Harry. You'll be the one to take Voldemort down. They all know how much we'll need you in the final battle. That's why they all die for you." Ron seemed to realize his mistake just after saying it.   
  
"Right, they die for me because I might save the world, and that makes it all fine to you! It's all right if all the people I love die, as long as I'm still around! Well, I've got news for you. I might not even be the winner! Either Voldemort kills me, or I'll kill him, that's what that prophecy said. Yeah, that's right, gape at me! Doomed to be either a murderer or dead! But I'm the hero of the wizarding world, so that makes it all just peachy!"   
  
"Harry, please don't do this. Don't blame yourself. You couldn't help who you are any more than we could." Hermione was trying to convince herself as much as Harry.   
  
"Well, tell me," Harry continued, ignoring her, "Do you think it was all right for Dennis Creevey to die trying to protect me? He shouldn't even have been there! I let him come along when I found him following us because I thought I would be able to protect him, but I couldn't watch him the whole time. He didn't know what he was doing. Now he's dead. He was only thirteen."   
  
"We think it's awful too, Harry," said Hermione. "But it's not your fault."   
  
"You know Colin hasn't taken a single picture since that day? Not one! You want to know how I found out? I ran into him in Diagon Alley that day when I was alone, and he didn't have his camera. He told me he didn't need it anymore." Angrily, Harry turned away, and began pacing the limited space of the elevator.   
  
Hermione began to realize that no matter what they said, Harry would react the same way. She kept quiet, going back to what he had said about the prophecy. He had never told them what it said, and so they assumed that he didn't know. But now she understood why he had kept it to himself.   
  
Her own problems, her plan, flew out of her mind for the time they were stuck in the elevator. Harry was having much bigger things happen to him. Poor Harry. She imagined that if she had to go through all that, she would most likely have killed herself by now. That thought depressed her so much that she forgot to notice when the electricity came back.

* * *

"Come in," Hermione called in response to the knock on her door. It opened, admitting a very nervous Ron. "Hello."   
  
"Hi." He came in and sat on the bed that Ginny occupied during the night. "Where's Ginny?"   
  
"She went out a while ago. Did you want to see her?"   
  
"No. Actually, I wanted her to be gone. I want to talk to you about yesterday."   
  
She exhaled sharply. "I was trying to avoid the subject all day."   
  
"I noticed." Ron did not look at her. He stared at the floor, his hands twisting and constantly shifting position. "You didn't know, did you? About the prophecy?"   
  
"No, of course not. Harry didn't tell anyone, I don't think. And would he tell me and not you?" She knew her expression waited for him to answer.   
  
He looked up briefly, then shook his head. "I guess not. Well -- maybe. He isn't the same anymore."   
  
"None of us are," she said quietly. "But if you were Harry, wouldn't you feel the same way? I mean, think of all the things he's been through."   
  
"We've been through a lot ourselves."   
  
"But not nearly as much as him. And I doubt he'll ever stop blaming himself for…"   
  
"Man," Ron breathed. "I don't I could live through that." Neither had anything more to say. Hermione joined her friend in staring intently at the floor.   
  
The next time the door opened, there was no knock. Harry simply let himself in. He sat himself next to Hermione, and for a moment the three of them were silent. Harry sighed suddenly, and broke the spell.   
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you guys. I know you only want to help, and none of it's your fault anyway. It's just that when I start thinking about all that, I lose control. But that doesn't give me an excuse to take it out on you. You're my best friends."   
  
Ron and Hermione exchanged somewhat guilty looks. "It's all right, Harry. I mean, you're right that you shouldn't yell at us," Hermione said, "but we understand. We forgive you. Right?"   
  
"Yeah. No problem, mate. We're not going to hold a grudge or anything because of one shouting session."   
  
"What about a hundred?" Harry asked glumly.   
  
"That too." Ron grinned, Hermione thought inappropriately, but Harry smiled back. "You were my first real friend, Harry. I'm not going to give up on you that easily." He stood, clapping Harry on the back as he passed him. "I'm going to see if there's anything to eat around here. Anyone want to join me?"   
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry went after Ron, the two of them racing to get to the food first. Hermione turned back to what she had been about to do when Ron had come in. The boxes that were sent by her request lay ready for opening on the floor. With a quick motion of her wand, she had the tops off, the contents revealed.   
  
The letters were somewhat identical. "I'm so glad you're finally taking an interest in this kind of thing. It's about time, I'd say. I included everything I could think of that would be useful. Can't wait to see you on the first day of school!" Hermione scanned them and set them aside. She half smiled as she looked through the goods. Stacks of magazines, bags of makeup, spell books, and even a few articles of clothing. She assumed they were fashionable castoffs.   
  
She made a mental note to thank Parvati and Lavender the next time she saw them. "Won't everyone be surprised," she muttered, taking the first book out and settling down for some in-depth reading.

* * *

There were, of course, spells for basic makeup application, but there was something about hand applied cosmetics that interested Hermione. Therefore, she was standing in front of the mirror with eyeliner in hand when the knocking started.   
  
"Hermione, are you going to get out of the bathroom? I need to shower before we go out for dinner." Ginny was the kind of girl who took grooming to heart. Hermione could have asked her for help, but she didn't want anyone to know who might be inclined to tell Ron or Harry.   
  
"Again? You took one a few hours ago."   
  
"I know, but it's really hot today. I'm sweaty and gross now."   
  
"It's not that hot."   
  
"Well, I'm exceptionally hot blooded."   
  
"I don't doubt that. Hold on a few minutes." She cleaned what makeup she had applied off her face. The sink ran black with mascara and eyeliner. She turned up the faucet to wash it away. Taking the pencils and bottles into her hands, she opened the door. "How impatient could you be, Ginny, if you were making an effort?"   
  
"Extremely, I imagine. There is a limited time until dinner, and I have things to do."   
  
"We have three hours."   
  
"Exactly! There is not enough time in the day, let me tell you." She leaned down to remove a towel from beneath the sink.   
  
"I would rather you didn't," Hermione replied. Ginny made a face at her and closed the door. Smirking, Hermione took the opportunity of being pseudo-alone to look through her wardrobe. She had bought a fair amount of new things. After all, what was the point of doing something drastic if there is no shopping involved? But she did not want to throw away all her old clothes. She altered two shirts and a skirt before Ginny called her from the bathroom.   
  
"Hermione, come in for a minute!"   
  
"I don't particularly wish to see you naked!" Hermione called back.   
  
"I've got a robe on!"   
  
Sighing, Hermione got up, stashing her secret. She entered the bathroom to find Ginny in front of the mirror, doing something to her hair. "Did you want to ask something?"   
  
"Just want to talk. It's been a while since we got a chance to be alone, without the boys. Not since the day you got stuck in that elevator, anyway." She smoothed down a lock of hair and picked up another. "There are things I've been wanting to ask you."   
  
"If it's about trying to get me to tell my secret, then I'm leaving now." Ginny did not know what had transpired in the elevator. Combine that with Hermione's new project and the Draco Malfoy debacle, she had three secrets from Ginny.   
  
"No, nothing like that. I have something I want to tell you, actually." She glanced at Hermione as she moved on to the other side of her head. "Well, maybe not yet. Hey, do you want to go out tonight, just you and me? This is the last night before we go back to Hogwarts, and we'll be spending a lot of time apart."   
  
Hermione smiled. "That sounds nice, Ginny. Sure. I'll need some time to get ready, though. If we're going to have a girls' night out, then we have to do it right."   
  
"I agree to extreme proportions. We'll talk then." Ginny flashed her white teeth before turning and flipping her hair over her shoulders. "Time for makeup."   
  
Hermione left then, picturing what she should wear that would not give her away before time. Something flattering, but simple, was her best bet. She extracted a lacy black skirt of a respectable length, and a red tank top with some ruffle detail. Nothing elaborate or drastic. Black sandals with a slight heel, no jewelry, wand-applied makeup. She allowed herself red lipstick a few shades darker than her shirt.   
  
Before Ginny emerged, an expected knock came at the door. Hermione answered it first with her voice. "Just a minute!" she said, closing her trunk on all the clothes she did not want the others to see. Then, she opened the door, admitting Harry and Ron.   
  
"Whoa, where did all your hair go?" Ron asked.   
  
"Believe me, it's still there," responded Hermione. She had twisted it up into a bun, not wanting to spend much time on it. Ron seemed to be looking her up and down. "What?"   
  
He started. "What? Oh. Nothing. Is that outfit new?"   
  
"Well, the skirt is. I've been waiting for a special occasion."   
  
"And this occasion is special?" Harry said. "Well, are you about ready to go? And where's Ginny?"   
  
"Ginny is in the bathroom," Ginny herself answered. "But she's almost ready."   
  
The others laughed. "Third person. Always humorous," said Harry, perhaps with a bit of sarcasm. Hermione was having a hard time deciding whether to believe when Harry was happy. She supposed that was unfair, but given the summer of their fifth year, he might start yelling at them all at any moment.   
  
Ginny came out of the bathroom at last, dressed in a black halter top, a brown miniskirt, and black beaded shoes. Her hair was parted on the side, showing curls placed at intervals among straight, smooth locks. Just as Ron appeared to be staring at Hermione, Harry stared at Ginny.   
  
"Well, let's not everyone stare at once," Ginny good-naturedly jibed. Both of the boys cleared their throats. "Oh by the way, Harry, Ron…"  
  
"Ginny and I are going out. Alone," Hermione supplied.   
  
"Yes. We're having a girl's night," said Ginny. "Sorry, but we kind of need it. We'll see you later."   
  
"Not _too_ much later," Ron warned.   
  
"Fine." Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother. "I promise I'll get her home by curfew."   
  
Hermione could not help joining in Ginny's laughter. "Bye, you two," she said. She and Ginny linked arms and left their room. "Make sure you close up the room when you decide to leave," she yelled down the hall.   
  
They went to an expensive restaurant, even going as far as to order some red wine. It was not a particularly strong wine, but still alcohol. Hermione had one glass only, but Ginny had about three. "I've had it before. I can handle three glasses easily."   
  
"If you say so." Hermione took a delicate bite of her dessert. "Ah, I love panna cotta."   
  
"That's Italian, isn't it?"   
  
"Of course."   
  
"Personally, I prefer French desserts. Chocolate mousse, for example." She took another mouthful. "Mm. Dessert heaven."   
  
"What was it that you wanted to tell me before?" asked Hermione.   
  
Ginny looked up. "Well- oh, that. Wait… hmph. I guess it wasn't important. I can't remember now."   
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows, but let it go. She put out money on the table for the check and tip. She caught Ginny looking at the cash worriedly. "What is it?"   
  
"Oh… I don't really have any Muggle money."   
  
Hermione grinned. "Don't worry about it. You can buy me something if you feel you need to pay me back."   
  
Ginny looked up with a smile. "All right. Let's go shopping."   
  
Almost half an hour later, they entered a clothing store owned by a witch. "Good evening, ladies. May I help you?" the clerk asked.   
  
"Not yet, but thank you," Ginny answered. The clerk smiled and went back to her work. Ginny and Hermione began to browse the racks. "This store has some great stuff. The best thing is the way they're charmed. They come in every color."   
  
"I'm sure you mean that in a magical way," said Hermione.   
  
"Of course I do. You can buy one article of clothing and it will change to any color. You just have to remember to change it before you put it on. Here, go try on these." Hermione was handed a thick stack of clothes, then hustled into the dressing room, where she tried on outfit after outfit and modeled them for Ginny.   
  
"Okay," Hermione said exhaustedly. She had on a dress that was sold in red. "This is the last one, and I will not try on anything else." She pushed the door open, and stepped out.   
  
"Wow, Hermione. This is the one," Ginny breathed. "Come look in the mirror."   
  
When she did, the mirror agreed with Ginny. Hermione did as well, thinking that it was incredibly flattering on her, and matched the new look she was planning to delve into. It had a neckline to expose something she did not even know she had, straps that crossed in the back, and a beautifully elegant length. "Where would I wear this, though?"   
  
"It doesn't matter. The point isn't to have an occasion to wear it. It's to have it. The sexy black dress, you know? But it looks magnificent on you in red. Go change, and we'll buy it," instructed Ginny.   
  
The dress was rung up at the register, three galleons and eight sickles, and Ginny paid. They thanked the clerk and left, both with satisfied smiles. "Well, I'm almost ready to get back," Hermione said. "What about you?"   
  
"Let's just walk a bit." A silent pause happened for a few blocks. "So, you're Head Girl, and none of us are surprised."   
  
"Ginny, stop it- well, I suppose you're right."   
  
Ginny laughed. "Don't be upset, Hermione. This is what you've been working for your entire life. We're all proud of you, you know."   
  
Hermione looked up. Ginny smiled at her caringly. "You three are the best friends I could have asked for."   
  
"What can I say?" Ginny shrugged. "We are natural born friends. But you do your fair share as well. No need to give us all the credit."   
  
"Hey, girls. Lovely night, isn't it?" a rather sketchy voice asked them. They looked back at the suspicious young man behind them, then turned again, putting their backs to him. He hiccupped.   
  
"We've just been hit on by a drunk old man. Ick," Ginny murmured, her mouth next to Hermione's ear. They quickened their pace slightly. "But we shouldn't worry or anything. There are people around, and we have our wands if we need them."   
  
Hermione nodded. "Of course. Still, I agree with you when you say 'ick'."   
  
The sketchy man situation did not follow them down the street. Soon, their walk led them back to the hotel. They left the night behind them in favor of comfortable mattresses, and prepared themselves for another year at the school where they nearly got themselves killed every year.

This year, Hermione would be different if nothing else was. _Oh yes, _she thought as she fell asleep. _It's high time for a change._  
  
…TBC…   
  
A/N again: Next chapter, or possibly the one after… well, in the future there will be other pov's than Hermione's. Review, please, it inspires me to get writing.


	3. Predictable

A/N: I was already into research mode and looking at the books when I realized that Harry had missed the sorting during his second and third years. So I said 'okay, no names of prefects'. I think I know one of them. The other research, which actually panned out, was for head boy. I know you all expected to see Draco as head boy and were quite content with that, but that whole entire thing has been so so soooooooo overplayed. So I decided he's not Head Boy in this story. Don't worry. He's still in it excessively. Now I think I need to write this chapter.   
  
I find it difficult to write Draco's POV in character, since the only side of his character that JK ever developed is the bully side. So it took me a while to finish this chapter. I try to keep him in the character that several different fanfiction writers have developed for him, since that means he actually has some. Other than that, I'm adding my own new twist to it, though you've all probably seen it before. But enough of that, on with the story!!

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Predictable_   
  
Draco Malfoy felt cold. It was only the first day of September, but he was cold. He took one of his traveling cloaks from the wardrobe and threw it over his shoulders. He was about to call for one of the house-elves when one appeared before him.   
  
"Haven't I told you to knock before doing that? I don't want you popping in here if I'm not dressed." He crossed his arms and looked down at the apologetic elf.   
  
"Stubby is sorry, Master, but Master is dressed, sir." Stubby was wringing his hands, waiting for more scolding.   
  
"Forget it," Draco said. "What do you want?"   
  
"Sir, if Master does not leave now he will miss his train, sir. Does Master want Stubby to bring Master's things to the Floo-hearth, sir?"   
  
"Yes, I suppose. Do that. You know, Stubby, you shouldn't say 'sir' so often. It gets tiring."   
  
"Stubby agrees with Master, of course. Stubby will try to do what Master suggests." A second later, the elf and Draco's luggage were gone. Draco looked at the spot where they had been, then shook his head as he left his bedroom. It was the nature of house-elves to be meek and impressionable, but he would like to meet just _one_ that talked back and had opinions of its own.   
  
"Narcissa!" Draco called when he neared the dining room. His parents would be just finishing their breakfast. They always ate at the same time, every morning without fail. "Lucius?"   
  
"How many times have I told you not to shout like that, Draco?" Narcissa asked in a tone that implied that she did not want an answer. She took a dainty sip of steaming tea.   
  
"Forgive me, Narcissa." He had never used endearments with his parents, nor they with him, as far as he could remember. Their relationship remained utterly formal. "I just thought of letting the two of you know that I am leaving for the train to school."   
  
"Have you had breakfast?" Narcissa asked.   
  
"Yes," he lied. "I had some in my room. You know me and breakfast."   
  
Narcissa regarded him, then turned back to the table. "Goodbye, then."  
  
He nodded in response. "Goodbye, Lucius," he said.   
  
His father did not respond. Narcissa looked up at her husband. "Lucius, your son is speaking to you."   
  
Lucius cleared his throat. "Goodbye," he forced out. Draco nearly forgot to hide his resentment of Lucius's attitude as he turned and left. He hurried to the Floo-hearth. They had one fireplace in the entire manor that was connected to the Floo Network. Lucius had explained to him a few years ago that it was much easier to monitor who entered - and left - the manor.   
  
"Stubby has Master's things, sir," said Stubby when Draco arrived.   
  
"Good. I'll take them from here, Stubby."   
  
"Master is too good to Stubby. But Stubby must return to work, sir."   
  
"Go on." Once again, Stubby disappeared. Draco took hold of his trunk and some Floo powder. He flung it into the fireplace, called out, "Platform nine and three quarters!" When he had picked up his owl's cage, he stepped in.   
  
Coming out of the grate, Draco coughed only slightly. Otherwise, his composure was perfect. He quickly summoned a trolley to wheel his luggage to the train. Of course, as he was approaching the door, who should interfere in his path but Potter. "Watch it," he growled. "If my owl gets rustled, I have no problem blaming you."   
  
Instead of replying, Potter gave him a surprised look. Draco ignored him and continued to find a compartment for his things. Soon, he had found Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode in one compartment. "Draco, I've been waiting for you," Pansy exclaimed. "We've got to go to the prefect's compartment. Put your trunk away, and we'll be on our way."   
  
They walked through the corridor together, her arm linked through his. She regaled him with some details of her summer, to which he attempted to listen. He had given up by the time they reached the prefect's compartment. Hermione raised an eyebrow when they entered. He raised one back, and she said abruptly, "You're late."   
  
Draco sat, shrugging. The meeting began. Hermione, unsurprisingly, was the Head Girl, and the Head Boy was a Ravenclaw named Anthony Goldstein. The rest of the meeting consisted of going over rules, duties and schedule. He had heard this numerous times. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. It wasn't as though anyone but Parkinson would address him directly, anyway.   
  
"I have some more stuff to look over. You go, Ginny. I'll catch up soon." That was the next thing he heard. Slowly, he opened his eyes to find that the meeting was over.   
  
"Draco, are you coming?" Parkinson asked sweetly.   
  
Because he was a Malfoy, he did not roll his eyes at her. "Not at the moment. Go on and tell the others I'll be there in a minute. Just go, Pansy." She pursed her lips hesitantly. Then, she turned decisively on her heel. As she stalked away, Draco's gaze left her and settled on Hermione Granger. "Shouldn't you already be in your uniform?" he asked.   
  
She glared at him. "You were napping during the meeting."   
  
"Hey, that was almost an accusation. Hold on to your wig." Draco held his hands up defensively.   
  
"My _what_?"   
  
"Calm down. I was only kidding. Gods, Granger, you're too easy."   
  
Hermione glared again. "You need to be setting an example for the new prefects. If you don't pay attention during the meetings, they'll think they don't have to."   
  
"I'm flattered you were watching me, Granger," he replied sarcastically.   
  
"I am trying to be serious!"   
  
"And almost succeeding."   
  
She sighed angrily. Draco could swear he saw steam coming out her nose. "You might have gotten away with this kind of thing before, but now we're not - like _that_ anymore. I'm Head Girl, and you should be showing me some respect."   
  
He felt his smirk grow. "I knew it was about that. You know, if you want to continue with our trysts that badly…"   
  
"_Shhh!_ No. I really don't. Anyway, you were the one who ended it, remember? You think you can do that, then I'll come running back to you whenever you feel like it?" She crossed her arms. He was still seated, and she was standing.   
  
"Listen, Granger. I wasn't getting anything out of it, really. I thought we'd go farther than that, but you wouldn't let me. After a while, there was nothing new about it. You're just so predictable."   
  
She laughed. "I really can't stand you. I never could."   
  
"Then why did you stay with me for so long?"   
  
Hermione did not reply. He tilted his head in a waiting gesture. She huffed and left the compartment quickly. Draco laughed quietly, until a tiny voice in his head reminded him that he had also stayed with her.   
  
_Shut up,_ he told it. _No one asked you.   
_  
He was just getting to his feet when another Slytherin joined him. "I've been looking for you. We have something to talk about."   
  
"Hello, Blaise. You certainly have a flair for dramatic greetings."   
  
"Sorry, but this is kind of important."   
  
"If it's that important, it can wait until we're in the dorm. I always put a silencing charm on my room. It's the safest place to talk. I think I have some idea of the subject, so it's best to wait."   
  
Blaise nodded, then jerked his head toward the door. "You want to get back to Crabbe and Goyle?"   
  
Draco considered. "Nope. Let's stay here for a while. There are a few hours left until we arrive at Hogwarts." Blaise closed the door, then sat across from Draco.   
  
"How are your parents?" Blaise asked.   
  
"Proper as ever. Come on, Blaise. That the best you can do?"   
  
"Fine. You got any yet?" He smirked at Draco.   
  
"Smirking's my thing, Blaise. Stop trying to be me." Blaise laughed. "Besides, why should I tell you? Or, more to the point, why do you think I would tell you the truth?"   
  
Blaise shrugged. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and looked up at the ceiling. "I've got a few bottles with me. They're labeled as hair care stuff, but I remember which ones are which."   
  
"Good for later," Draco said. "I need something to make the first day worthwhile."   
  
"As always," added Blaise. "Well, I have a full bottle of Raw Trindle. I think it fits for back to school, don't you?"   
  
Draco shook his head and laughed. Blaise laughed with him. It must have released something that he had been holding in for a while, because he laughed for quite a while, even after Blaise had stopped.   
  
A pile of snacks from the lunch cart and a long, wide-ranging conversation later, Draco and Blaise left the prefect's compartment. They joined Crabbe and Goyle and the others, where new insults for Potter were brewing.   
  
"A return to the mundane," Draco said quietly to Blaise. His response was a short nod and a look of intense agreement. "So, what've you got, Crabbe?"   
  
"Hang on," the huge boy answered. Both Crabbe and Goyle, who had been large during their first year, had grown considerably. Now, in their seventh year, they more closely resembled Hagrid in size than seventeen year old boys.   
  
"How about 'poncy four-eyed bugger'? I know it's not the most original, but it always seems to get people mad if you call them poncy." That was Bulstrode, turning the attention toward her. Pansy joined in then, and the two of them battled for the title of Supreme Insultor. Eventually, they asked Draco what he thought.   
  
"Hey, this is your problem. Don't get me into it, you all know I'll never tell you whose insults I like anyway." He glanced at Blaise, who was grinning at him in amusement. His look was one of _I-won't-get-between-you-and-your-girls_. Draco glared.   
  
A very short time later, the train ground to a halt. The six occupants of the compartment stood, then hurried off the train. Draco and Blaise climbed into one of the horseless carriages and shut the door to everyone else. When they were moving, Draco asked, "Is it about the DM?"   
  
Blaise nodded. "My father spoke to me on the subject sometime in July. Did yours tell you the new plan?"   
  
"He did. I was surprised. It certainly doesn't help us with our plan."

They cut the conversation short, saving it for after the feast, when everyone else would be occupied with their full stomachs and their welcoming dorm four-posters. They watched other students through the windows of the carriages, gesticulating animatedly and laughing at remarks that were most likely not funny.   
  
"Any wager on the new Defense professor?" Draco asked suddenly.   
  
"Why, what happened to Macatha?" Ariella Macatha had been the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during their sixth year.   
  
"Honestly, where were you during the last week of school? She ran off with that Janin bloke, to Mexico, I think," sneered Draco.   
  
"Mexico? Why would she want to go there?"   
  
Draco shrugged, looking out the window. "Beats me. But come on, new professor! What do you think?"   
  
Blaise ran his fingers through his hair. It was a habit of his that Draco had always found annoying; no one should touch their hair that often. However, a surprising number of girls were fond of this quirk. "Hmm… well, it's obvious that they won't last more than a year. As for what's wrong with the new one… ah, disturbing obsession with elbows?"   
  
Laughing, Draco jumped to the ground, and Blaise followed. "Where did that come from?" he asked.   
  
"Well, we've had an idiot, a werewolf, a wacko, and another wacko. We're about due for something scary but harmless, wouldn't you say?"  
  
"I assume the two wackos are Moody and Umbridge?" inquired Draco as they climbed the stairs. Blaise nodded.   
  
"Draco!" a voice called out. It was Parkinson and the rest of them, just out of their carriage. "Why didn't you wait for us?"   
  
Draco rolled his eyes toward Blaise, who grinned. "Forgot," he muttered in their direction. They caught up, and the six Slytherins entered the Great Hall. Home away from home, Draco thought, taking his usual place at his House table. Blaise sat directly across from him. Goyle sat on one side of Draco; Parkinson, clinging to his arm, on the other.   
  
Once everyone had been seated, the first years were brought in, McGonagall in the lead. Draco glanced at each of the new students briefly as they passed. At Hogwarts there were many names he did not know, but he could pick any face out of the crowd. He had always been disproportionately proud of this skill; he knew it was useful in some situations, but in others there was no need for it. Anyone who asked would be told that it was one of the best things you could be good at.   
  
The Sorting Hat recited its traditional Introduction To Itself. It was long-winded and Draco was distracted by the Gryffindor table. Potter and Weasley were sitting facing him, trying not to stare at a brunette sitting across from them. Draco couldn't tell who she was.   
  
The Sorting began. McGonagall called the names, last name first, as always. Each first year student walked nervously to the stool and sat, many of them so short their toes did not reach the ground. The hat was placed on their head, then the tear in the brim would open, and the Sorting Hat would yell out their House. Draco never really paid attention to this aspect of the start-of-term feast. Instead, he and his… _friends_ conversed quietly.   
  
"Do any of you recognize that girl sitting across from Potter and Weasley?" he asked in low tones.   
  
Pansy peered over heads to see, and Blaise turned in his seat for a moment. "I think it's Granger," he said after turning back.   
  
"No way," Pansy exclaimed, a bit louder than was proper. "She could never get her hair to look like that."   
  
"Well, remember the Yule Ball?" Millicent countered, a hint of reluctance in her voice. "And they've come out with all kinds of new hair-taming spells since then. Maybe she's just decided to work on her looks."   
  
"But it doesn't even look like her," Draco complained quietly.   
  
The others looked askance at him. "Draco, you're seeing her from behind. How can you tell?"   
  
The question just barely registered with him. He did not pay close enough attention to know who had asked. He shrugged in response, peering closely at the Gryffindor table. He saw Potter get the girl's attention and nod in his direction. She swiveled, revealing her identity to them all. It took all of Draco's willpower to keep from gaping at her. She smiled just slightly, then turned her back on him.   
  
"I win," said Blaise triumphantly.   
  
"Oh, sod off," Draco snapped.   
  
"Zirino, Matthew" became a Ravenclaw and joined the Ravenclaw table. Dumbledore stood, spread his arms, and said, "Welcome. I would like to commence the feast with a few words: eat up."   
  
As soon as the feast appeared, Draco forgot all about Granger and concentrated on the food. Even the house-elves at Malfoy Manor were not as adept at food preparation as the Hogwarts elves.   
  
The seat next to Snape at the staff table was vacant. Registering this, Draco's chewing slowed. After swallowing, he said, "Hey, Blaise, check out the Defense professor."   
  
Blaise looked up, glanced toward the staff table. "Invisible. Well, that I would not have guessed."   
  
Draco chuckled, then grimaced. Malfoys did not chuckle. "Do you think they could find someone willing to take the job? It's got quite a reputation."   
  
"Hopefully. They can't not teach Defense," Blaise said. He noticed the surprised looks, and the one warning look from Draco, and added, "Just saying. Dumbledore would teach it himself before scrapping it from the curriculum."   
  
Draco mouthed, _"watch it"_, and Blaise gave a slight sign that he got it. The others remained oblivious that any sign of suspicious behavior had just transpired as the last remnants of dessert disappeared from the platters. Dumbledore rose, gesturing for silence. The room, unsurprisingly, quieted.   
  
"Welcome, first years, and all other years as well! I sincerely hope you will enjoy your school year. As always, I remind you that the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds is actually forbidden, and not just severely named. A list of banned items can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, but only between the hours of six and seven in the evening. I also must ask you not to swim in the lake without informing one of the Professors first."   
  
"As some of you might have noticed, your Defense professor is absent. He could not be here tonight, but he asked me to do an introduction nonetheless. For the duration of the year, the Defense Against Dark Arts professor will be Remus Lupin, who held that same position four years ago. I am counting on all the students to make him as welcome as possible." Raising his eyebrows, Draco exchanged glances with Blaise. He couldn't believe Lupin had come back.   
  
Dumbledore finished his speech, sending them off to their dorms. On the way to the dungeons, Draco told Blaise in an undertone, "Can't let anyone think we're plotting something. We'll be seen in the common room for half an hour, maybe. Then, come to my room."   
  
"Right," Blaise responded.   
  
"Oh, Draco, how are you feeling?" Pansy simpered.   
  
"Fine," he said slowly. "Why do you ask?"   
  
"You ate so much tonight, you know. I thought you might have a stomach ache."   
  
Draco took in a huge, annoyed breath. "No, I'm just fine."   
  
"Oh. Well, that's good." Blaise coughed before Draco could nonverbally scold him for laughing. Draco settled for gritting his teeth, and did not speak as Pansy sniveled - there was no other word for it - all the way to the common room.   
  
Inside, they settled down on the leather sofas, Parkinson as close to Draco as she could get. Conversations were held, to which Draco did not contribute. He was too busy holding his own mental talk with himself.   
  
_What is going on with Pansy? She's always been rather clingy, true, but this is beyond extreme. Even for her, and that's quite something. What, does she think we'll be getting together or something? Ugh, that's just… wrong.   
_  
Eventually, he managed to extricate himself from the grasp of Pansy Parkinson. It took many yawns and five claims of being too tired to concentrate on anything until the morning, and they did have classes the next day. She pouted, but released his arm. Draco took the opportunity to retreat to his room.   
  
"Ah, prefect-ness," he sighed upon entering.   
  
"Like having your own room, huh?"   
  
"Bloody hell, Blaise, don't sneak up on a guy like that. At least give me a minute to settle in." He turned away, but caught Blaise's silent laughing in the mirror above the small table in the corner. "I saw that."

Immediately, Blaise stopped. "So," he said, clearing his throat, "ready for it?"   
  
Draco spun to face him just as he removed the Raw Trindle from wherever he had been keeping it. He held out his hand, motioning for Blaise to hand him the bottle. No sooner did it reach his hand than he had it open and took a long swig. He smacked his lips at the end of it.   
  
"Good stuff, right?" Blaise said with a smile. He drank about half the bottle in fifteen seconds.   
  
"Damn, have you been practicing over the summer?"   
  
"Well, gotta do something." He passed the bottle to Draco again. "You know, while the old man's out doing Voldie's bidding."   
  
"And he explained to you about the mark." Blaise nodded. Draco drank for a moment before continuing. "I was shocked to hear that he's planning to change it. Dark Lords don't tend to change their ways, especially when the current methods more or less work."   
  
"The age requirement was more of a surprise to me. Voldemort's never accepted anyone under twenty-one. Changing the age to seventeen? You know that means they'll expect us to do it right after we get out this year."   
  
Draco nodded. "Lucius told me Voldemort was even considering sixteen. Wanted to have real spies inside Hogwarts to check up on Dumbledore and the other Order members. Man, this is good. Do you have any more?"   
  
"No," Blaise laughed, "but I can get some easily."   
  
"Blaise," Draco said, sobering for a minute, "you and I still think the same way about Voldemort, right?"   
  
"Unless you've changed your mind."   
  
"Well, we've got to really think, then. Because Lucius has implied many times that he has orders to kill me if I refuse to do what his Lord wants."   
  
Blaise's face was hard. "I have a similar situation," he said.   
  
Draco yawned, this time for real. "Disappointing, this is. I've just had some of the best alcohol available, and I'm too tired to enjoy it. I'll just go to bed and have a hangover tomorrow morning."   
  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Draco. Drink some water, that should help with the headache." He set the bottle down on the bedside table. "There's still a bit left. I'll leave it for you."   
  
"How thoughtful. Goodnight. Try to come up with some ideas before you go to sleep. I don't want to be doing all the work here."   
  
"I won't go into how unwarranted that remark was, as you are far too tired." Blaise saluted as he closed the door. Draco shook his head, then proceeded to undress for bed. He climbed in between the sheets and let his head fall to the pillow.   
  
A few minutes went by before he quickly sat up, searching beside him for the bottle of Raw Trindle, and chugged what was left down as quickly as his esophagus would allow. The next time his face hit the pillow, he was already asleep, drunken-stupor style.   
  
…TBC…  
  
Just review, okay?


	4. Slytherins

A/N: When did everyone suddenly decide that Draco likes mai tais? I've seen about fifty billions stories that mention it in the summary. The first place I saw it was FictionAlley, Cassandra Claire was the author. Since then, whoa. But it doesn't really matter.  
  
Another question. If Harry and the others are in seventh year (which they are), what year is Malcolm Baddock? And what kind of name is that, anyway? It's not trivia, I really want to know what year he's in.  
  
I'm making the assumption that each person has a few uniforms, because if they had to wear the same one every day, then ew. I've never had to wear a uniform, but I just don't think there would be a place where you only have one, right? So… yeah.  
  
To clarify: Hermione's new look officially started when she changed into her Hogwarts uniform on the train. She was still in her regular clothes at the prefect meeting. Her older regular clothes, not her new-look-regular clothes. Er… right. Time for the story.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Slytherins  
_  
At breakfast on the second day of school, Hermione sat facing the Slytherin table. She had gone down early, and the Great Hall was mostly empty. Students trickled in as time went on. About half an hour before their first class would start, Harry and Ron joined her. They both looked incredibly sleepy and grumbled as they sat. They heaped their plates with most of the food within reach.  
  
"Sleep well?" Hermione asked. Ron glared at her, and Harry shrugged while looking at his food.  
  
"How long have you been up?" Ginny asked. She had just arrived.  
  
"Two hours," Hermione answered. "I've been so excited for this year, I could barely sleep at all. I can't believe you aren't more enthusiastic, Ron. This is your last year at school. And you, Harry. You'd be able to start Auror training almost immediately when the year ends."  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco sit down to his table. She could tell he was looking at her for the first few seconds, and then he turned away. _Well,_ she told herself, _you _did_ want to be noticed.  
_  
New, more stylish clothing was only a part of what Hermione had changed. She had looked through the magazines sent by Parvati and Lavender, reading each cover to cover as she would any book, and memorized all the useful spells in them. The ones she got the most use out of were the hair spells. There were spells to straighten, to smooth, to curl, to soften, and change color, and Hermione knew them all. Makeup spells went as far as simple eye shadow and lipstick, but she preferred to apply makeup the Muggle way.  
  
Realizing that during school she would not be wearing her new clothes so often, she had adjusted her uniform. All the skirts were adjusted either adjusted in length, to be miniskirts, or in width, to make them hang more elegantly around her legs. She had made sure the shirts and sweaters were more fitted than she had worn them in the past.  
  
All she wanted was… she wasn't really sure at the time. "Stop staring at me, Harry," she said for the eleventh time. She had counted.  
  
Looking embarrassed, Harry glanced at Ginny, who gave him a half smile, before proceeding to stare down his plate. Hermione raised her eyebrows at this, then exchanged glances with Ron, who shrugged half-heartedly. They both knew Harry was still upset about Dennis.  
  
Thankfully, their class schedules arrived, providing a new topic for conversation. Even Harry was distracted. "We have Defense every day except Tuesday. Four days a week, that's… a lot," he said excitedly.  
  
"Great," Ron said. "The day we start class is the only day we don't have DADA."  
  
"It's not that big a deal. We can visit Professor Lupin in his office later today," said Hermione.  
  
"I wonder why Lupin wasn't there for the start of term feast," Ron said.  
  
"You do?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well, yeah. Don't you?"  
  
"Last night was the full moon, Ron," Hermione explained patiently. "He couldn't have shown up in the Great Hall."  
  
As quickly as he could find a topic, Ron changed the subject with a groan. "Aw, we have Potions today. And double on Friday morning - with the Slytherins _again_! Who makes up these things?"  
  
"That's quite something," Ginny said, looking at her brother's schedule. "You have Potions two days a week, and DADA four. I would kill for a schedule like that."  
  
"Why, what do you have?" asked Hermione. Ginny handed her timetable over. Hermione scanned it, reading aloud. "Double Potions Monday - ooh, sorry Gin - and regular Wednesday and Thursday. Defense Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday- my god, when are the rest of the years having DADA? It seems like they're taking up all the time with sixth and seventh years."  
  
"We'll be leaving the school earlier. I guess Dumbledore just wants us to be prepared," Ginny guessed.  
  
"Hey, free period, last class on Friday," Ron exclaimed. "Nice. That's what you have, right?" He looked up at the rest of them.  
  
"What was that?" Harry asked, bringing his head up. "Oh, yeah. Free period Friday. I've got that."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Not me. I have Ancient Runes."  
  
"You're still taking that?" Ron whined. He sounded more disappointed than surprised.  
  
"Of course. It's one of my favorite classes." Ron frowned. "Oh, come on. You'd probably just be playing quidditch or chess while I bother you about doing homework. You won't miss me."  
  
"Don't be too sure of that," muttered Ron. Hermione made a confused look in his direction.  
  
"Ah, guys," said Harry suddenly. He was staring at his schedule, looking over it very carefully. "Look at this. Anyone else notice something strange?" No one knew what he was talking about. "Well, just look. DADA - with the Slytherins. Charms - with the Slytherins. Transfiguration with the Slytherins. Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Herbology is the only time we get away from them."  
  
"You're right," Ron said, his voice incredibly annoyed. "What the bloody hell is going on, here?"  
  
"I don't know," replied Hermione, shaking her head.  
  
After dinner that night, the four of them made their way to Professor Lupin's office. Hermione, in the lead, knocked, and called out, "Professor Lupin?"  
  
"Come in," they heard him call. They opened the door slowly and filed into the office. Lupin looked up with a smile. "Hello, Harry. I was wondering when you would be coming."  
  
"Well, we would have been here sooner," Ron said, "but we had classes and things."  
  
"I don't doubt that you came as soon as you could, Ron," Lupin said. "And Ginny. If I remember correctly, you weren't part of this tight-knit group back when they were in their third year."  
  
"No, Professor. I joined them after the incident in the Department of Mysteries."  
  
"Ginny!" Ron hissed.  
  
"What? Oh, Harry, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right." He waved down their concern.  
  
Lupin observed this exchange, then smiled warmly at them all. "Would any of you like some tea, or anything? I was just about to make some for myself."  
  
"No, thanks," Ginny said. Ron shook his head. Harry nodded with a weak smile, and Hermione answered, "Yes, thank you, Professor."  
  
When the tea had been handed around - Ginny ended up taking some - Lupin got down to business. "Did you four have any particular reason for coming here, or is it just a social call? Bear in mind, I am glad for your company either way."  
  
"Actually, Professor," Hermione said, leaning forward in her seat, "there is something we want to know."  
  
"We were wondering why you came back, after all that happened four years ago," Harry said. "If you are comfortable telling us, that is."  
  
There was a pause as Lupin had a sip of tea. "There's not actually as much of a story as you might think," he answered slowly. "Dumbledore was having a hard time finding someone for this position, after what happened to the last one. I told him that if it weren't for my condition, I would gladly do it. Therefore, he managed to convince the school board and the parents that their children would be perfectly safe, and told me that I had the job." He shook his head. "I didn't think he would actually take me seriously."  
  
"Are you saying you weren't eager for the job?" Hermione asked. It would be disappointing if he wasn't. She loved having him as a teacher.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, Hermione. I love teaching, especially such an important subject. But you all know that this school has a bad history for this particular job, and I was worried about what parents would think of having their children taught by a werewolf."  
  
"Professor, you're the best we've ever had. They should be more concerned with the quality of the teaching than whether you turn into a wolf one night out of a month," Ron said. The others all looked at him. "Well…"  
  
"Quite thoughtful of you, Ron," said Lupin, his mouth twitching in the corners.  
  
"Anything you can tell us about the class this year?" Harry asked, changing the subject to suit his curious nature.  
  
Lupin cleared his throat. "I think you should wait until tomorrow. It's not as long as it seems. I can tell you that the seventh years will have a different experience than everyone else. We are doing something completely new."  
  
"Will it be dangerous?" prompted Harry. There was a note in his voice, that he must not have noticed, of excitement. Hermione knew he did not want any more danger, because he felt that he put people in life-threatening situations, but he couldn't help how he was made. Harry was the kind of person who thrived on danger. Perhaps that was why he wanted to be an Auror.  
  
"Some of it will be, I will not lie to you. But the four of you should leave before I give away something I shouldn't." He ushered them out, despite their expressed longing to stay and talk. Trudging up to their dorm, Harry, Ron, and Hermione speculated on what they could possibly be doing in DADA that Lupin wanted to keep so secret from them.  
  
"What did you do, Ginny?" Harry asked.  
  
"Not that much. It was only the first day." She shrugged.  
  
"So you refuse to help us, then?" Ron said.  
  
"Hey, Lupin even told us that the seventh years are doing something different. It wouldn't tell you anything about your own class." She pulled ahead of them as they ascended toward the Fat Lady.  
  
"You see?" Ron said, pointing to his sister. "Never helpful."  
  
"Oh, shut _up_, Ron," Hermione told him, rolling her eyes.  
  
She climbed through the portrait hole, Harry and Ron behind her, Ginny a bit ahead. "Ginny, wait a minute," she called. The redhead stopped and turned, waiting for Hermione to catch up. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Wrong? No, not really," Ginny answered, looking wistfully at something in another part of the room.  
  
Hermione gave Ginny an expectant and smug look. "You're watching Harry, aren't you." The way she stated it was not exactly a question.  
  
"What? No, I -"  
  
"It's okay, Ginny. I've known that you still like him for a while."  
  
Ginny sighed. "I had thought I was more careful than that."  
  
"Oh, Harry has no idea, and neither does Ron. I'm just observant."  
  
"So I've noticed." She peered toward the couch where Harry was sitting with Ron and Seamus, laughing at some joke or other. "Hermione, do you think -?"  
  
"No," Hermione cut her off.  
  
Ginny whipped her head around to look at Hermione. "You don't even know what I was going to ask."  
  
"Sure I do."  
  
Ginny shook her head again, and started for the dorm. "You know what, tell the others I said goodnight. I'm not in the mood to hang out down here right now." Hermione could tell she was annoyed, and wasted no time to make her point.  
  
"Harry's never going to make a move," she said.  
  
Slowly, Ginny turned. "So you were aware of my question. You really think, never? Not even if I give him all the signs?"  
  
"Ginny," Hermione began, a serious countenance dominating her words, "Harry would not do anything like that. First, he's too distracted to notice any signs from you. I'm not sure why, exactly." That was a lie; Harry was distracted because of Dennis, and his guilt. "Second, even if he thought you would let him, Ron would kill him if he touched you."  
  
"Why wouldn't I let him? He was my first crush."  
  
"Well, you have been dating since fourth year, you know. _Seeing other_ _boys_, to put it technically."  
  
Ginny crossed her arms. "It's not like that's a crime."  
  
"Of course not, but Harry doesn't know you're still interested. What I am trying to say is that you have to let him know how you feel in the most direct way possible."  
  
"You mean - you think I should kiss him?" Ginny asked incredulously.  
  
Hermione considered this, then shrugged. "I couldn't hurt," she said. Ginny's face scrunched for a moment. She continued up the stairs to her room, glancing back once at Hermione.  
  
"What was going on with Ginny?" Harry asked once Hermione had rejoined them.  
  
"Oh, nothing. She was just tired. She had a long day with her classes, plus - but I shouldn't be telling you that."  
  
"Telling us what?" inquired Ron suspiciously.  
  
She looked between them. She shouldn't, really, but Hermione was nothing if not curious, and she had decided to make the new Hermione adventurous. What would happen if she did say it? There was only one way to find out.  
  
"Well, if you insist. She's kind of having guy problems. You know, nothing unusual, just that she likes someone and he's completely unaware."  
  
"Who the _hell_ is this guy?" Ron sounded slightly angry.  
  
"I can't tell you, but let's just say we all know him very well." She winked at Harry. She yawned dramatically when it seemed like Ron was about to speak. "You know, I'm rather tired. I think I may go up to bed now."  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to stick around?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes, thanks. I want to be awake for DADA tomorrow morning." She stood, stretching her arms above her head, and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked at the boys, who were all staring at her. She laughed and started toward the dorms. "Goodnight, everyone."  
  
She had barely gone three steps before Ron caught up to her. "Ah…er…Hermione…"  
  
"What is it, Ron?"  
  
His mouth opened and closed a few times, but any actual words were absent. After a while, he let out his breath in exasperation. "Nevermind. Sleep well." He turned and walked to the couch where Harry still sat. She saw him hit his forehead.  
  
Ron had been acting quite strange of late. Their arguments were as usual, but everything else about him seemed to have changed. He picked on her as often as he mumbled incoherent phrases while awkwardly shuffling his feet, and she often found him looking at her. The latter had begun to happen even before she changed her look.  
  
Many ideas had crossed her mind as to why he seemed embarrassed half the time he was around her. None of them were the least bit likely or reasonable, or fair to Ron, for that matter. She had boiled it down to a teenage-boy-hormone deal, and decided to wait until he came to her to make up her mind about any details.  
  
When Hermione reached her room, she went over the homework she had been given that day. It was nothing difficult, just first day stuff. Even Snape hadn't gone too hard on them; a two-foot essay due at the beginning of next Tuesday's class.  
  
Seeing no reason to start any of the simple assignments immediately, she set about arranging outfits and spells. Just because she wasn't doing schoolwork was no excuse not to work hard at something.

* * *

After spending much of the night inventing interesting ideas for DADA, Harry was vastly shocked the next day when he came out of that class before lunch.  
  
When they emerged from Charms, Harry was already having mixed feelings. They had to spend the entire morning with the Slytherins, if he looked at it from the negative side. Thinking positively, he had managed to perform the Eraser Charm on his first try. Back in first year, it had taken him an entire class to be able to do most of the charms they learned. It was proof of how far he had come as a wizard.  
  
"Ron, _honestly_. We've barely begun school and all you can think about is getting away," Hermione was saying when he tuned into the conversation.  
  
"We spend all our time with Slytherins. Can you blame me? Am I right, Harry?"  
  
"Sure. But come on, Ron. We just have class with them. They're not forcing us to spend every waking moment with them or anything," said Harry.  
  
"I need to stop at the bathroom," Hermione told them.  
  
"We only have ten minutes before Defense. You'll be late."  
  
"I won't be long, Harry. Save me a seat?" she instructed, and ran off.  
  
"That's not the way to the bathroom," Ron noticed.  
  
"Has Hermione seemed a bit odd lately?" asked Harry as they sat two desks from the front.  
  
"So you see it too? Good, I was afraid I was the only one."  
  
"What do you think it is?"  
  
"Hi, guys," Neville said as he sat down at the table behind them.  
  
"Hullo, Neville," Harry answered. "You seem in a better mood than usual."  
  
"I'm having a good morning," shrugged Neville.  
  
"Don't worry, it won't last," Malfoy interjected. He was sitting at the table behind Neville, next to Blaise Zabini. Harry and Ron both glared at him.  
  
"Shut it, Malfoy."  
  
For an answer, Malfoy gave them an expression between a sneer and a smirk. His face melted to blank when Hermione sat down in front of him. "Hi, Neville," she said breathlessly. "Did I miss anything?"  
  
"Only the snotty remarks of an imbecile," Harry told her, truthfully as he saw it. He made a slight face at Malfoy.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes - that was one thing she hadn't changed - and began to set her books on the table. "How many times have I told you to ignore him?"  
  
"Hey, he was the one who cut into our conversation," defended Ron. Harry and Neville nodded emphatically.  
  
It was just about then that Harry looked around the room and found a sight that was somewhat surprising. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting at a desk one to the left and two to the front of Malfoy's. For them, that was pretty far away from him. He had been under the impression that their few brain cells only worked if they were within three feet of Malfoy. And yet he was behind Hermione, next to Blaise.  
  
He had no time to think about this before Professor Lupin entered, taking his place at the front of the room. The talking died down while he waited.  
  
"Good morning," Lupin started. "In case you don't remember me, I am Professor Lupin. I will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts for the year. I must prepare you as much as possible for what is waiting for you out in the world by the time you have to take your N.E.W.T.s."  
  
"Before we begin, I want you to forget anything you might have heard from your friends or siblings in younger years about this class. Anything they've told you will not hold true for you. As seventh years, you are going to be doing something completely different and new. Your tasks may be fairly dangerous, and you will be trusted with more responsibility."  
  
"Through the course of the year, you will have many assignments. Most of them you will do with a partner. You will have one partner for the entire year."  
  
Harry and Ron glanced at each other. They would be more than willing to do DADA projects together for the whole year.  
  
Lupin lifted a blue silk top hat for all to see. "Dumbledore was kind enough to lend me this hat. I have written each of your names on a slip of paper and placed them into it. When I call your name, you will come up and pick a name out of the hat. The person whose name you draw will be your partner for the year."  
  
Apparently, Lupin had decided to start at the end of the alphabet, because Blaise Zabini was first. He stuck his hand in the hat and drew out a single strip of white paper. He read the name aloud. "Granger."  
  
"After you have been assigned a partner," Lupin said as Zabini returned to the back of the room, "sit with them at the same desk. Your seat for the year will not change. You will sit next to your partner for classwork reasons."  
  
Zabini took the seat Neville quickly vacated, dropping his books onto the table. Hermione glared at him. Harry gave her a sympathetic look. Ron was next, and he got up crossing his fingers. He ended up pulling Seamus's name, which Harry was sure Ron would be able to live with. Ron took his things and moved one desk to the left, where Seamus was sitting. He glanced at Harry and shrugged.  
  
"Harry, you're up."  
  
Harry stood. As he walked to the front of the room, where Lupin held out the top hat, time slowed, and he began to worry. Both of his best friends had already been chosen. It was more likely that he would get stuck with a Slytherin partner than a Gryffindor. Of course, he would never let the class know he was worried.  
  
He stared at the name on the paper for what seemed an eternity, then looked up and read it out in dead tones. "Draco Malfoy."  
  
The faces of every Gryffindor there fell. They looked toward the back of the room, where Malfoy was reclining in his chair with his hands folded behind his head. "Well, come on, Potter. Take a seat." He slapped the chair to his right. "I'm not moving."  
  
Gritting his teeth, Harry gathered his books and moved to the table in the back. He sat down, and glared. Malfoy greeted his hostile look with a smirk that he couldn't read.  
  
…TBC…  
  
Reviews are nice… review and I'll make sure I update again before the end of the month.


	5. Willpower

A/N: Yes, I knew that everyone would expect Draco and Hermione to be paired for DADA. To tell the truth, that thought never even crossed my mind while I was writing it. I decided immediately to put Hermione with Blaise and Draco with Harry. For one thing, it would be extremely awkward to write a bunch of Draco/Hermione scenes in which they act as though their escapades in romance never happened, which is what I would have done. It's just better for my plan to have these partnerings. And yes, I am aware that is not a word.  
  
Before I get started. I'd just like to thank everyone who reviewed, if you've been following along as I update. I would also like to curse all those who didn't, but we can't have everything, can we?  
  
On with Transition!Chapter#1.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Willpower_  
  
As soon as Harry sat down beside him, Draco flashed him a smirk. _Well,_ he thought, _won't this be interesting_. He wondered how long it would take for Parkinson to ask Potter to switch with her. She had just drawn Longbottom's name. Draco relished the irony of Pansy's situation. Neville Longbottom was an easy target, which is why most of the Slytherins picked on him. However, Pansy would never let her own reputation be tarnished by letting him get them a bad mark. She would help him in order to help himself.  
  
Sitting there as Potter glared at him sporadically, Draco made a decision. He would not waste his time insulting the kid - especially when Draco was insulted first. A terrific plan was springing up in his mind, and if Blaise agreed, then they could both get out of the situation with their Death Eating fathers.  
  
Thus, he and Blaise claimed a dark corner of the common room that very night. As the sons of the most prominent Death Eaters in Voldemort's inner circle, if they decided to conspire in dark corners together, no one would ask questions. Draco cast a spell around that corner to disinterest eavesdroppers. It was an incredibly useful tool, he had found.  
  
"I think we're both having the same thought, Blaise, about this new development in DADA," he murmured.  
  
"Well, I couldn't say what you're thinking. I personally got the feeling that it was the perfect opportunity to form a new alliance," Blaise responded.  
  
"Precisely. If we can get them to trust us just enough to hear our idea, they'll have quite a hard time saying no to us."  
  
"With their help, we might be able to get out."  
  
"Interesting speculation, Blaise," said Draco sarcastically. "You do realize that we'll still be in the same predicament, only with more allies? We're going to need more help than a handful of teenagers."  
  
"I hate to say it," Blaise began cautiously, "but maybe we should go to Dumbledore. He'd help us."  
  
"We can't, not now. And if I can help it, I would rather not get the Headmaster involved until there is no other choice. Why don't you keep that in mind? I think the first thing we need to do is form more positive relationships with our partners. Once that happens, we'll have them meet us in the Room of Requirement."  
  
"As always, we'll go with your plan," mocked Blaise. At Draco's look, he sighed. "Yeah, that's what we need to do, Draco. Though I think you'll have a harder time of it that I will."  
  
"I can't disagree with you there," Draco said, muttering about how certain Potters are slightly uncooperative when it comes to things like cooperating. The two of them got up and retreated to their dorm rooms, Draco ignoring Pansy's call of "ooh, Draco, come sit with me!"  
  
One of his greatest worries was that his parents would want him to marry Pansy Parkinson. He had learned from a reliable source - eavesdropping while she talked to Millicent and Sally Anne Perks - that the same situation was her fondest fantasy. That fact put him off her with even more fervor. She would be all right if she would just stop acting so sappy and pathetic whenever he was around. He had ceased to hope such a thing would ever happen, however, and so he could not stand her.  
  
Now Hermione… _she_ was a completely different story. She had always interested him, at the very least. She was far more intelligent than most of the students at the school, and the fact that she always despised him drew him to her. It was a bit perverse, he admitted, but he supposed it had something to do with his upbringing.  
  
One event had changed the way he looked at her. They ran into each other when both were alone at Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was rather empty that day, and the people inside were too busy with their own lives to pay attention to a couple of teenagers. They had sat together in silence. Draco had insisted on paying for their drinks. When she told him she had to go, he had stood with her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her. Before she had a chance to say anything, he was gone.  
  
Since that day, she had seemed different. For one thing, she was willing to forget about their past enmity and let him snog her passionately. That was the least of it, though. Every time he saw her, he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. He made sure to notice one amazing detail with every glance. _One_ her eyes, _two_ her smile, _three_ the dimple in her right cheek, _four_ the wrinkle in her forehead when she was concentrating hard on what to write next. He spent the end of sixth year memorizing her, and the summer before seventh year arranging meetings with her.  
  
If he was anything, he was a Malfoy. As a Malfoy, he would never tell her what he felt about her. Especially when he wasn't quite sure himself. Instead he kissed her, and when he realized how attached to her he was becoming, he ended it. He missed her, sure, but he was a Malfoy, and would not let that change anything.  
  
So on Friday morning, he woke up much earlier for breakfast than he ever thought he would. After all, he rarely ate breakfast anymore. He wasn't planning to eat anything, and he wasn't planning to tell Hermione anything. He just wanted to talk to her alone, and felt that it would be incredibly predictable to approach her in the library.  
  
He was there before she was. For approximately three and a half minutes, he thought she would be accompanied by Potter and Weasley after all, and his chance would be gone. This fancy was dispelled when she walked into the Great Hall alone. Once she had settled herself, he got up from his seat and went to the Gryffindor table with purpose.  
  
He put his right hand on the table and leaned over her shoulder. "All right," he said. "You got my attention."  
  
"_What_ are you talking about?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.  
  
Draco gestured to her look. "You can't deny that you look utterly different."  
  
She scoffed. "Well, this may come as a shock to you, Draco, but not everything is about you. Least of all my decision to change my appearance."  
  
"So why did you do it, then?"  
  
"That's really none of your business, Draco. We're not friends, and I don't trust you."  
  
He was glad she had not decided to turn and look at him while they talked, because by some odd twist of nature, he lost control of his expression, and felt the anger showing on his face. He straightened just before hearing his surname spat hostilely from the entrance.  
  
"Contain your boyfriend, Potter," he said, nodded toward Weasley with a sneer. "He's too willing to make a scene."  
  
Harry ignored this remark, holding an arm out to keep Weasley from lunging toward Draco. "Was he bothering you, Hermione?" Harry asked.  
  
"No more than usual," she replied.  
  
Potter turned back to Draco. "Get out of here, Malfoy. Some of us will be attempting to digest in a moment, and that will be an incredibly difficult task with you standing there." Weasley took a seat next to Hermione. Harry walked around the table and sat across from her. Draco, still lacking any semblance of an appetite, decided to leave the Great Hall before he did something he would regret. On his way out, he was nearly bowled over by Neville Longbottom.  
  
"Watch where you're going," Draco growled.  
  
Longbottom did not answer, he only hurried away. As Draco checked his clothing for some sign of dishevelment, he spotted the Herbology textbook with the sheet of parchment sticking out of it. He opened it and scanned what had been written. There were notes on the properties of some plant he had never heard of, and Neville's name at the top of it. He closed the book and walked reluctantly back to the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Longbottom," he said, when he was about five feet from him. Neville turned around, looking afraid. _Don't worry_, thought Draco sardonically, _the Wonder Boys will protect you_.  
  
"Er…" was all Longbottom managed to get out.  
  
Draco held the book out. "You dropped this."  
  
Every Gryffindor occupying their table at that time turned and stared at him. He was sure the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were staring as well. As for the Slytherins, it was obvious that they were waiting for the punch line. Longbottom sat stunned, appearing to consider what to do.  
  
"Look, just _take_ it. I haven't done anything to it," Draco said in annoyance.  
  
Still, Longbottom didn't reach for his book. "Why don't you just leave him alone," Weasley, ever the unnecessary savior, suggested with excessive hostility.  
  
"I happen to be attempting to return someone's personal property, Weasley," stated Draco. "If Longbottom wants his Herbology book and notes, it's no business of yours. I would say that's his decision to make."  
  
Neville had finally been jolted out of catatonia, and looked through his things. He turned again and nervously nodded and reached out to take his book. Draco took a few steps forward to hand it to him. As soon as the book was in Neville's hands, he opened it to check the parchment within, and he sighed in relief. He looked up with genuine gratitude, though the fear was still present as well.  
  
"Er, thanks," Longbottom croaked. Draco nodded curtly to him, in the manner of a Malfoy being polite to someone he did not particularly like. His eyes swept over Hermione briefly as he turned to leave. The look on her face was fairly blank. He took it to mean that she thought he was trying to impress her, and she was trying to remain unimpressed. The mouths of both Weasley and Potter had fallen open unattractively.  
  
"Now, there's a look to get the ladies excited," Draco jibed, as he walked away. "Slack-jawed stupidity. I would try it sometime, but that would be false advertising." He hoped they would know he was talking about them, but he did not turn back to check as he exited the Great Hall.  
  
Draco badly wanted to hit something.

* * *

Two days had passed since Draco had sought her conversation and then surprised them all that morning in the Great Hall. Hermione sat in the common room, curled up near the hearth. Even in September, even when there was no fire, she liked to sit by the fireplace. She had her Transfiguration text open in her lap, and was researching answers for the homework that was due the next day. Most of the other students were outside, as it was sunny and warm.  
  
A few days ago she had decided that she would not call Malfoy by his surname, at least when they were alone. It would be rather juvenile of her to revert to that when she had been calling him 'Draco' for so long. She liked his first name better, anyway. Not that it mattered, as she repeatedly told herself.  
  
_Transfiguration. Right._ She began to read aloud to help herself concentrate. "One of the most difficult transformations a wizard or witch must learn it the changing of an animal into another species of the same family." But why would Draco just return Neville's book, without doing anything… _Malfoy_ beforehand? It was very unlike him. But perhaps not unlike the him that she had started to know during their odd relationship. "You must look into the eyes of the animal while performing this spell." She wondered if she had ever known him at all. But still, all the Slytherins picked on Neville at every chance. This had been an opportunity to cause Neville to go into a frantic search for his Herbology notes. Instead, Draco had handed it back to him without a second thought. Sighing, Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't make much sense," she said aloud, closing her book sharply and massaging her temples.  
  
"Don't tell me _you_ of all people are having homework trouble?" Ginny's voice interrupted. "Merlin knows what I'm going to do next year if you can't do it."  
  
"No, it's not that. I'm just having trouble concentrating."  
  
"Ah." Ginny fell silent. The look on her face exuded broodiness of a Harry-esque capacity. Hermione thought she would relate the cause of this brooding if she waited, but still Ginny said nothing. At last, Hermione decided that direct interrogation would be most effective.  
  
"Ginny, what's wrong?"  
  
Ginny looked up, her expression perplexed. "I kissed Harry."  
  
At once, Hermione became excited. The event had been her doing, after all. However, there was the Unhappy Factor to consider. Hermione would have thought Ginny would be floating on a cloud if she ever kissed Harry. "Was Ron there when it happened?" she asked, her voice low.  
  
"God no. I don't go kissing boys in front of my brother, Hermione. I have far more sense than that. Besides, I like first kisses to be private. No one around at all."  
  
"That makes sense. I suppose I would want it that way, as well." There had been other people present the first time Draco kissed her, but none of them had taken any notice. Was that the equivalent of being alone? "Didn't he kiss you back?"  
  
"Oh, of course," Ginny answered. "There has never been, and never will be if I can help it, a time when I was not kissed back."  
  
Hermione fought down her smile, because the situation was serious, and Ginny was most certainly not joking. "Well, what happened?"  
  
Ginny exhaled in consideration before answering. "You know when you kiss someone and you really feel something? I don't mean sparks or chemistry or anything, but… you feel something?"  
  
Hermione blushed. "Maybe."  
  
"I had always assumed, because I liked Harry so much, that I would feel that when I kissed him. But I didn't feel anything. I could tell he didn't either. It was like when you kiss someone on a dare and you're rather indifferent to kissing the person." She sat back with a huff, crossing her arms. Hermione could understand this action.  
  
"Well, maybe you never really liked him that way," Hermione said. "It is possible to mistake feelings of close friendship for a crush."  
  
"I suppose, but I really did like him," insisted Ginny. "Believe me."  
  
"You must have had a certain extravagant fantasy of kissing him planted so firmly in your mind that the actual experience could never compare," Hermione suggested with conviction. It was true that she was analyzing the situation at hand with her expansive vocabulary, as Ron had once told her she did.  
  
"You know," said Ginny, "that does make sense. It's just disappointing. Now I don't even want to give it a second shot with Harry."  
  
"I'm sorry, Ginny."  
  
"Hey, nothing doing. There are plenty of other boys at this school."  
  
Hermione grinned. "Yeah, so you'd better hurry. The year might end before you've exhausted all the possibilities."  
  
"Shut it," Ginny commanded genially.  
  
Harry arrived, stood awkwardly, and managed to force out, "Ron will be here in a few minutes. He just went to get some things for our big Sunday Night Bash."  
  
"Harry," Ginny said, adopting a more serious tone, "I want you to do me a favor."  
  
He glanced toward Hermione. "What is it?"  
  
"Hermione knows, Harry. I just told her. I want you to pretend that neither of us ever felt anything toward the other except friendship. Will you do that for me?" She batted her eyelashes in the way that Lavender did whenever she felt the urge to make Hermione gag.  
  
Harry smiled, relieved. "Sure. As long as you don't tell Ron we kissed."  
  
"It's a deal."  
  
Surprisingly enough, Ginny and Harry were utterly comfortable after that exchange, and Ron was never the wiser for what had transpired between them. They all went about their happy lives.  
  
_Is it really that simple? All it takes to forget about crushes is willpower?  
_  
_Oh, god. I'm going to be thinking about Draco forever.  
_  
Hermione managed to finish her homework before the common room got too rowdy. She stashed her book upstairs and joined the jovial Gryffindors, but her heart was not in it because her mind was elsewhere. She took her privilege as Head Girl to wander the halls around nine in the evening.  
  
Half of the portraits she passed were already sleeping, some snoring. A few commented that she should be in her dormitory, but they were shushed by the ones who knew her as Head Girl. Some simply said a quiet "hello" and went back to their two-dimensional business. Many ignored her completely.  
  
The portrait of the chubby man in the green velvet waistcoat turned over in his slumber and muttered, "How much is that doggy in the window?" Hermione stifled her chuckle as she passed him.  
  
Soon, she found herself facing the bowl of fruit that marked the entrance to the kitchen. Not having any better ideas, she tickled the pear and entered. Perhaps there was something the elves could give her…  
  
They all looked at her suspiciously, apparently remembering her from the days when S.P.E.W. was in high gear. She decided to let them help her. "Could I have some hot chocolate with a bit of whipped cream?" she requested.  
  
At once, all the house elves brightened. "Yes, miss. Would miss like anything else?" One of them asked.  
  
She shook her head. They pushed a stool up to the counter in the middle of the kitchen and offered her the seat. In no time, she had a large mug of chocolate with whipped cream floating at the top, and a spoon was placed beside it. She had some of it and felt instantly relaxed.  
  
She took her time finishing, savoring each sip. When one of the house elves came to take her dishes away, she asked him, "Do you _really _not want to be free and paid? Truly?"  
  
"House elves are born to serve, miss," he answered, bowing his bulbous little head. "We don't do anything else, miss, why should we be paid? It has always been this way." He seemed nervous, as though wondering if she would start S.P.E.W.-ing at him.  
  
"All right," she said wearily. "If you are happy with things the way they are, I'm not going to try to change them."  
  
"Yes, miss, we are happy," he said, a smile breaking out on his face. "Dumbledore sir is a great man. A great master."  
  
Hermione smiled back at him. "That's good. I like Dumbledore, too."  
  
The elf beamed, then cleared away her dishes. She said goodbye to the servants and trudged back up to Gryffindor Tower, where the celebration had thinned but showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.  
  
"Attention, people!" she shouted over the commotion already in place. They quieted to let her speak. "Thanks. I don't want to be the one to break up your fun, but since everyone has classes in the morning I am requesting you to end this at eleven o'clock. I trust you to do so without me looking over your shoulders. I'm not going to be a Head Girl Snape. I would prefer, however, if Professor McGonagall did not have to come in here in the middle of the night to tell you all to go to bed. All right, carry on."  
  
They applauded her appreciatively. Before she reached the stairs, Ginny and Ron caught her. "You're not staying?" Ron asked. "Where've you been?"  
  
"The kitchen, and no," Hermione answered the questions in reverse order. "I am rather tired, and we have Transfiguration in the morning. You two should go to bed as well. Where is Harry?"  
  
"Feeding butterbeers to Colin over in the corner," Ginny answered, gesturing behind her. Hermione looked at the two sullen boys and her heart almost broke for them. "Harry says he'd rather spend time with someone whose feelings were somewhere close to his."  
  
Hermione looked at the floor. "We have to help him," she said quietly.  
  
"Harry, or Colin?" Ron wanted to know.  
  
She brought her eyes up. "Both of them. They are both killing themselves with their sadness. As Head Girl, but more importantly as their friend, I can't let them stay this way."  
  
"I don't think you can do much to change it," Ginny said. "They won't feel better until they get what they need, and they won't know what they need until they get it."  
  
Ron and Hermione both looked at her in surprise. "How do you know that?"  
  
She shrugged. "It's not that hard to figure out."  
  
"Really, you two, I need to get to my bed," said Hermione. She pushed past them and managed to make it into her pajamas before crying empathetically for everyone who had ever suffered a great loss.  
  
…TBC…  
  
Reviews cure all evils… wait, no, that wasn't reviews. What cures all evils? Well, anyway reviews do help, so come on and review. You can do it!


	6. A Different View

A/N: _hushed voice_ Ladies and gentlemen… _end hushed voice_ At last, we have come upon an Important!Chapter. Possibly it is the most important yet, considering everyone except Hermione, because she's a changing change-bunny. …Yeah, I have no idea what that means. Sue me.  
  
There have been questions, one of them surprised me. 1: of course Hermione and Draco still have feelings for each other!! This is news to you? I've turned into a Hermione/Draco shipper extraordinaire, mostly meaning that I always put them together. After reading NLE, this should have been obvious to you. Will they end up together in this fic? Probably, but not until it's closer to the end. 2: Since both Blaise and Draco know what they're talking about, they aren't going to mention every detail in their conversations. That wouldn't be Slytherin at all. As to whether they're having an evil plot, I thought it had already been vaguely established that the two of them were beginning to turn against their fathers. Think about what Draco said when Blaise approached him on the train. He was worried that other Slytherins would hear and turn them in. And Blaise suggested that they go to Dumbledore in Ch.5. I hope that clears it up a little. The rest will be revealed in approximately two chapters.  
  
Now that I've taken care of that, I will introduce you to this Important!Chapter. Staring: Hermione, Blaise, Draco, and Harry. Cameos: Anthony Goldstein, Malcolm Baddock, Madame Pince?, others. Setting: Library. Summary: Ha, I can't believe you actually thought I would summarize this chapter before you read it! That's fairly gullible.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_A Different View_  
  
Professor Lupin had already given them three assignments, and it was becoming clear to Hermione that she would be spending a large portion of the year doing research and field work with Blaise Zabini. It was late in September, and they were once again in the library, sitting at Hermione's regular table, with seven separate books lying open and quills scratching across parchment.  
  
They had worked out a way to do their homework without speaking to each other. They would split up the work between them, and each would work on their part, then they would combine them. This required no conversation and had worked well so far. Hermione favored it to any other method she could come up with.  
  
Something was different on this particular day. She angled herself a bit more toward Blaise and started to catch the frequent glances he was throwing her. Soon, she was quite agitated, and snapped, "What?!"  
  
Blaise looked up, surprised, and said, "What?"  
  
Hermione huffed. "You've been all but staring at me for the past twenty minutes."  
  
"Forty," he corrected matter-of-factly. He did not elaborate on this.  
  
"Will you tell me why?"  
  
"Your eyes look different," he said. Hermione had no response for this. It was true; she had used a deep green eyeliner, which placed some green in her eyes and made them look more intense. The fact that Blaise had been staring at her caught her off guard; the fact that he admitted it was even more disconcerting. Finally, she spoke.  
  
"Oh."  
  
She distinctly heard a soft laugh from Blaise. She glared at the index, in which she was supposed to be looking up countercurses for hexes that affected the skin. He spoke again, to her horror, after some time had lapsed. "It isn't a bad thing to be admired."  
  
At this, she forgot completely about her work. "You were admiring me?" she repeated incredulously.  
  
"Like I said," replied Blaise, "that's not a bad thing."  
  
"It's not a common thing, either. Don't you remember who I am?"  
  
Blaise laughed again, slightly louder this time. "Of course. But you've definitely put in the effort to make sure people notice you. You've obviously changed; why can't I?"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again with a thoughtful look. That was a question she was not sure how to answer. There was obviously more of a story behind it, about how he saw her and what was happening in his own life. She wanted to ask, but did not want him to close up and refuse to tell her anything.  
  
"So, why did you change?"  
  
Hardly believing they were actually having a conversation, Hermione answered. "Have you ever witnessed a mid-life crisis?"  
  
"Sure. My father had one two years ago. He had a new broom custom-made, renewed his vows to Voldemort, and went on a Death Eating spree."  
  
She looked at him wide-eyed. "I thought you weren't allowed to say that your father was a…"  
  
He shrugged. "It's not as though anyone doesn't know. Anyway, what was your point?"  
  
"Er, my point…yes. That's sort of what I was going through. I had just gotten out of a bad relationship, and I…I suppose I just wanted a change. I was tired of being overlooked and scorned and-"  
  
"A relationship?"  
  
She shook her finger good-naturedly at him. "Oh, no. I am not saying another word about that."  
  
"And you decided to become beautiful because of this one guy?"  
  
Pushing aside the fact that Blaise had just called her beautiful, she said, "No, it wasn't him. It was the entire world, really. I have the best grades in the school, and I know I have good qualities. The ones who get all the attention, all the dates, are Lavender and Parvati. They aren't stupid, but they're a bit…ditzy. And you of all people know how people see Draco. If I became famous for inventing a spell to cure Cruciatus-incurred insanity, and Lavender became a model for Witch Weekly, she would be better known, the way it was before I changed."  
  
Blaise's dark brown eyes were unreadable. "You just wanted to be noticed."  
  
She nodded with a small smile. "I guess it worked."  
  
Of all the people she could have chosen to spill her secret, she had to tell _Blaise Zabini_ everything. He was known to be Draco's confidante, and that alone was reason enough to avoid speaking to him. She had told him things she would never have revealed even to Ginny.  
  
Three fourth year Slytherins passed while in search for a few books, Malcolm Baddock in the lead. When they walked by again a few minutes later, Baddock sneered, "Careful, Zabini, don't let her touch you. You don't want to be tainted by a muddy bloody Mudblood." They all snickered loudly, to the disapproval of Madame Pince, who scolded them as she checked out their books. They all left looking sickeningly smug.  
  
When she was sure they were gone, Hermione leaned on her arm, palm to forehead, and sighed in hurt annoyance. She hardly cared that Blaise would notice; she had just told him her second biggest secret. She turned her face toward him and found him watching her.  
  
"You can't let a remark like that get to you," he objected reasonably, sounding an awful lot like Hermione telling Harry and Ron to ignore Draco. "It wasn't even clever."  
  
She sighed. "I know. I'm just tired of it. I'm exhausted of this racism."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Do you remember in fourth year, when everyone found out that Hagrid was half-giant? It's like that. The people who didn't know him cared nothing for _who_ he was. All they could see was half of _what_ he was. It's wrong. This prejudice against Muggleborns is no different. It comes from what they've been taught by their parents all their lives. They're kept away from us for their entire childhood so they can't learn the truth until it's too late."  
  
A short pause preceded Blaise's next question. "What truth is that?" His voice was soft and humming.  
  
She looked him squarely in the eye. It hit her then how attractive he was, but she did not let that distract her. "That whether a witch or wizard has Muggle or magical parents, we're all the same."  
  
Blaise turned his gaze to the books lying forgotten on the table. "Maybe we should finish this another time." When he said this, he was looking toward the library's entrance. Hermione looked up to find Anthony Goldstein walking toward her.  
  
"I've been looking for you," Anthony said. "We've got some work to do. Are you incredibly busy?" His cheerful tone did not fit with what they had just been talking about.  
  
"Er…" Hermione glanced at Blaise. "I suppose I can give you half an hour or so. We should work in the Great Hall. Meet me there in a few minutes?" Anthony nodded, then turned on his heel and walked out. Hermione began to gather her things, stuffing them into her bag. "Can we work tomorrow, Blaise?"  
  
He did not answer her. Instead, he gently gripped her wrist to stop her from walking away. "Listen, I don't know what you think of me, but I don't see you as Muggleborn. I see you as Hermione Granger. And so does he."  
  
"Who?" Hermione inquired. Blaise gestured toward a table behind her with his chin. She looked over her shoulder to where Harry and Draco had been sitting for the past ten minutes.  
  
"Neither of us care about that," Blaise told her seriously.  
  
"I really have to go," Hermione said. She did _not_ want to talk about Draco. "Find me later and we'll plan a time to finish the assignment, all right?"  
  
She left as quickly as she could, barely even noticing when she glanced back at her dark-haired Slytherin partner. The Great Hall and her duties as Head Girl awaited her.  
  
With the Head Boy, she was beginning to lay out a plan for a Halloween Ball. She focused all her energy into planning, and still she was distracted. _You've changed, why can't I?_ She was sure Blaise had been trying to tell her something with that question, especially when she considered the last thing he said to her. It seemed clear, or at least translucent, that he had no wish to follow Voldemort. Did that mean Draco didn't, either?  
  
From what she had come to know of Draco, he had always been indifferent to Voldemort, and he had never cared about blood. That would not have made sense to Harry or Ron because of the way he had always acted, but it was the truth. He had told her a lot during their rendezvous. She assumed that Blaise still did not know about them, because he had thought it necessary to inform her about Draco's opinion. That was the only comfort she could see when she thought about herself and Draco. He had not told anyone.  
  
Students began filing in for lunch. Anthony joined his friends at the Ravenclaw table, and Parvati sat down next to Hermione. "Hello," she said. "Something on your mind?"  
  
Hermione looked at the pretty girl next to her. "Always," she replied, but she refused to say more.  
  
Parvati glanced around them. "Say, do you know if Harry is seeing anyone?"  
  
Hermione looked at her in surprise. "Not as far as I know. Harry very rarely keeps secrets, but he might be. I'd suggest you ask Ron. He'll know anything I don't."  
  
"I already did," Parvati whined. "He wouldn't tell me anything. He just stuttered a lot and said I should ask you."  
  
Hermione laughed as she remembered that there was food in front of her, and began to take a piece of steak and kidney pie. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I don't really know. Try your luck, flirt a bit."  
  
Parvati brightened up. Flirting was something she was actually good at. "All right. Thanks, Hermione."  
  
Instead of pointing out that she hadn't done anything, Hermione said, "You're welcome."  
  
Parvati moved down the table to sit with Lavender. Ron arrived and sat next to Hermione. Harry was not far behind, and took a seat across from Ron. "How did it go with Malfoy?" Hermione asked, trying to sound innocent.  
  
Harry faced her for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, and shrugged. "Okay, I guess." He then proceeded to stare at his food.  
  
_What has Draco done now? _Hermione desperately wanted to know. 

* * *

Harry led his DADA partner to a table close to Hermione because he did not quite trust Blaise Zabini, and Hermione had a strange look on her face. Malfoy sat next to him instead of across, and Harry shook his head in irritation.  
  
"Something wrong, Potter?" Malfoy asked. The absence of maliciousness in his voice was strange to Harry. The fact that the absence had been present all term was worse. He had no idea what to make of it.  
  
A few minutes passed during which they studied silently. It was odd… was he feeling comfortable… with Malfoy? He dismissed the thought immediately, but it kept reappearing in his mind as he researched.  
  
At last Harry was given a distraction that changed the way he saw Draco Malfoy forever. He had been watching Hermione with Blaise Zabini discreetly - or so he thought - since he and Malfoy had arrived. They had just been interrupted by Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione was readying herself to leave. Suddenly, Zabini took hold of her wrist. Harry made to stand and defend his friend, but something restrained him. He realized that Malfoy's hand on his shoulder was holding him in his seat.  
  
"Leave them be," he said calmly.  
  
"Hermione's my friend," Harry said, quietly but angrily. Malfoy had not loosed his grip.  
  
"And Blaise is mine," replied Malfoy. "He's not doing anything against her honor, so let them alone."  
  
"Why should I believe you?" demanded Harry.  
  
Draco let go of Harry's shoulder, and turned his chair to face Harry at less of an angle to his neck. "If for a moment you could forget your Gryffindor-versus-Slytherin ways, you could easily see that I'm telling the truth." He indicated Hermione and Zabini with a slight nod.  
  
Harry looked behind him, in much the same way as Hermione had glanced at him and Malfoy a moment earlier. She and Blaise exchanged some quiet words, she picked up her bag, and left. Blaise watched her go with hopeful pensiveness.  
  
"What's going on?" Harry wondered in a low growl.  
  
Draco laughed, to his surprise. "I'm sorry you're a Gryffindor, Potter."  
  
"What do you mean by that?"  
  
"Well, Gryffindors are not well known for being able to figure out the schemes of others. Take you, for instance. You were under the impression that Snape was trying to get the Sorcerer's Stone. You believed Crouch was really Moody and told him everything after he took you away from Dumbledore after you had reached the center of the maze. You let Voldemort trick you into thinking he had Black in the Department of-"  
  
"How do you know all this?" asked Harry, having heard enough.  
  
"My father, of course, and from what other students have said. I know far more than you would think," Malfoy said. "Allow me to give you some examples. I know that Voldemort wants to change the minimum age to become a Death Eater to seventeen. I know that he is thinking of altering the Dark Mark."  
  
"Why are you telling me these things?" Needless to say, Harry was confused.  
  
"Because I also know that I will never be a Death Eater."  
  
Malfoy was looking at Harry, arms crossed, waiting for a reply. Harry sat silently, struck by what he had just been told. He had always assumed that Malfoy would follow in the footsteps of his father. Ron reinforced this at every turn, and Malfoy's own attitude had never done anything to refute it. "Wha- er-"  
  
"Yes, quite articulate, Potter. That's a sure way to get a straight answer."  
  
"Don't mock me, I'm just surprised," Harry snapped.  
  
"Well, aren't we testy today?"  
  
"_We_ aren't anything, Malfoy. Anyway, why won't you be a…" He did not want to say the title. If Madame Pince heard them, they could get into trouble.  
  
"Because they're changing the name." Harry looked at him witheringly. "I'm just joking, Potter, don't lose your skirt. I am not going to be a Death Eater because I do not believe what Voldemort and his followers believe, and I'm not afraid of anyone."  
  
"You mean that some people join Voldemort because they're afraid of him," Harry clarified to himself.  
  
Malfoy nodded. "There you go, you're catching on, Potter."  
  
"Do you have to use my name so often?"  
  
"What, you don't like your name?" Malfoy asked.  
  
"It's not that, it's just tiresome, I guess. No one speaks like that, really."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Okay, will you just stop?"  
  
"All right," conceded Malfoy. Again, Harry was stunned. Here was Draco Malfoy, being agreeable. No trace of malign intent in his gray eyes, nothing to suggest that he had some ulterior motive.  
  
"I simply don't understand why you of all people would change your mind so suddenly."  
  
"First, you don't know me, so don't presume to suggest such things. Second, I _didn't_ change my mind. I never wanted to be a Death Eater."  
  
"What? But- the insults, the taunting-"  
  
"Kid stuff, Potter. I'm fairly surprised you took it so seriously."  
  
Harry shifted in his seat. "You called Hermione a Mudblood."  
  
"You don't understand the way things work when you're a Pureblood descendant of Dark Wizards. Word gets around how you act. Your parents find out. I wanted Lucius to have a certain impression of me."  
  
"I thought you said you weren't afraid of anyone."  
  
"I'm not," Draco enforced his previous statement.  
  
"Then why would you care what he thinks of you?"  
  
"Because if he knew that I wasn't of a like mind with him, he could cut me out of the family fortune. Money has always been important to Malfoys."  
  
"I couldn't have guessed."  
  
"We could do without the sarcasm. It doesn't suit you, anyway. Not Gryffindor enough."  
  
"So, that's it? You don't want to have to make your own way, so you pretend to be an evil prat?" Harry queried.  
  
"Thank you, Potter. I'm flattered. No, not exactly. Money gives you power. Lucius could sign off all his money to a younger Death Eater, or to Voldemort himself, in the event of his death, if he wanted to keep it away from me. I would rather I get that money than someone who will use it toward vicious ends."  
  
Harry was once again speechless. He would never have suspected Malfoy of such noble intentions. "But you like being rich."  
  
"Of course. Don't you?"  
  
"I'm not rich," Harry denied automatically.  
  
"Come off it, Potter. I know a thing or two about your parents. The Potters were another old Pureblooded family. I know that you were left piles of galleons to claim when you found out you were a wizard."  
  
"Okay, you need to stop that."  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"Stop knowing so much about me."  
  
Malfoy's face remained blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
Harry grimaced at him. "_Fine_."  
  
To this, Malfoy said nothing. Harry thought that perhaps the surprising and confusing conversation was over; it seemed so for a while. Neither of them spoke, and their work was close to completion.  
  
"Potter, do you understand what I'm saying?" Malfoy asked abruptly.  
  
Harry looked up from his book. "You weren't saying anything."  
  
"Not just now, before. About opposing Voldemort."  
  
Harry did not answer immediately. Finally, he conceded, "Yes."  
  
"Then you know that you can trust me," Malfoy continued. "Blaise as well. He doesn't think any more of Voldemort than I do."  
  
"I don't know that. You're still a Slytherin."  
  
"Salazaar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor were close friends," revealed Malfoy. "Were you aware of that?"  
  
"But they fought all the time. Hermione said so."  
  
"That doesn't mean a thing. Just that they did not agree very much."  
  
Harry stared at him, waiting. What was he trying to say?  
  
Malfoy soon answered the unspoken question. "We want to get out," he said simply.  
  
"You and Zabini?"  
  
"No, me and my owl. Of course Blaise and me."  
  
"What about the rest of the Slytherins?"  
  
"They don't know a thing," Malfoy assured him.  
  
Harry was unsure whether he should believe Malfoy, but there were two things that kept him from dismissing him altogether. He was inclined to trust anyone who would speak with such conviction. He also knew that Hermione knew something about Malfoy. When Ron and Harry talked about what a prick he was, she argued gently that there were reasons for the way everyone acts. He had wondered before, but now he thought that perhaps Malfoy had said something to her.  
  
"Come on, Potter. We're finished here, and it's time for lunch."  
  
Thus, Harry dazedly followed Malfoy to the Great Hall. Having finished their lunch, Ron, Hermione, and Harry left the castle and took a walk to Hagrid's.  
  
"But Hagrid won't even be there," Ron pointed out.  
  
"We can wait for him in his cabin," Harry said. It was the most private place he could think of to have an important conversation. He knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, he pushed it open. The barking started up immediately.  
  
"Hello, Fang," Harry greeted the huge dog, and ruffled his ears. Hermione and Ron each gave Fang a pat as well. Harry made sure the door closed behind them, then hung his head out the window, checking for spies. "No one's here."  
  
Hermione was giving him a prodding look. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I need to talk to the two of you," he said quietly, "about Malfoy."  
  
"I'm going to kill that bastard," Ron piped up.  
  
"Ron, will you wait until I've actually talked?" Harry requested. He was fairly sure he did not want to be enemies with Malfoy anymore. Ron grumbled. "Thank you. All right, here's the thing. After you left the library, Hermione, he told me some very strange things."  
  
"What did he say?" Hermione frowned. Harry knew that something had transpired between her and Zabini as well, which would inspire curiosity in her.  
  
"Basically that he's on our side, but he's sort of in the middle of the Death Eaters. He seemed to be asking for our help."  
  
Ron scoffed. "Yeah, right. Good luck to him."  
  
"Ron, hang on a minute. What if you were in the same situation? Would you want everyone who could help you to just turn their back on _you_?" Hermione asked.  
  
He blushed to the tips of his ears. "No, but we're not talking about me. This is Malfoy. He deserves whatever he gets."  
  
"That's not fair, Ron. You hardly even know him," Hermione argued.  
  
"What, and you do? You think he should be allowed to suddenly horn in on our lives and ask for favors after all he's done?"  
  
Hermione looked down at the floor. Harry's eyes narrowed at her passive attitude as she mumbled, "Everyone deserves a second chance." He wondered if she was referring to someone else as well as Malfoy. She could even be speaking of herself. Someday soon, Harry would persuade Ginny to pry that secret out of Hermione.  
  
"Malfoy's had plenty of chances."  
  
"No, Ron. Hermione's right," Harry broke in. "If Malfoy needs our help to keep out of trouble for not becoming a Death Eater, then it's our duty to give it to him. I'll talk to him again, and find out what he's really trying to do."  
  
Ron looked between him and Hermione. He sputtered for a moment, then burst in anger, "You can't be serious! You don't believe that he really cares about anyone but himself, do you?"  
  
"Ye wouldn' be talking 'bout me, would ye?"  
  
They all looked up to see Hagrid standing in the door. "Oh, hello, Hagrid. I hope you don't mind that we let ourselves in," Harry said, shooting the others a look of warning.  
  
"No, no. Not at all. Ye know you three are always welcome 'ere."  
  
They all smiled and took seats at the table.  
  
…TBC…  
  
When you review, keep in mind that OOC-ness is almost the entire point of this fic.


	7. Erik

A/N: It is not out of malice that I don't update this story often. I've wanted to update for three weeks or so, believe me. Even if the reviews came faster, I don't have time to write this and post apprx once a week because the chapters are so long. I have to just write them whenever I can. So you can deal with it if I can.  
  
This chapter is a PlotPoint!Chapter. It is also a Dream!Chapter.  
  
Reviews: Tamurl07, OOC means out of character. Yeah. That's it. To the others, I already have a Blaise pairing planned. And it is not Hermione, though a Blaise/Hermione pairing sounds good. Sorry.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Erik  
_  
On a bright Friday afternoon, once their lessons had ended, most of the Hogwarts students were relaxing either out on the grounds or in their common rooms. They were shaking off the stress of classes and hard work for a night before starting on their weekend homework. While this was happening, two seventh year students sat just within the fringe of the Forbidden Forest.  
  
"This is the oddest assignment I've ever had," Blaise stated. "And I'm not succeeding at all. Maybe I need direct contact." He walked up to a tree and placed his hand on the bark. "This one's not dark at all. And certainly not energetic."  
  
"Blaise," admonished Hermione lightly. "That's not what he meant."  
  
Professor Lupin had instructed them to feel out some kind of dark energy in the forest. He had said that every dark creature or spell can be sensed with the right concentration. Some people were better at it than others. And dark creatures, he had hinted meaningfully, always knew when one of their own was nearby.  
  
"Well, I think I've had about enough of this. Can we continue tomorrow? I'm not helping, anyway. Maybe after a good night's sleep-"  
  
"You mean a good night's partying?" Hermione interrupted. Blaise glowered at her good-naturedly. "No matter. If you don't want to stay, why don't you go on? I think I might try to see if I can get us any further in this assignment."  
  
"Are you sure? Lupin specifically said we weren't supposed to try this on our own, considering how dangerous the forest can be." Over the past few weeks, Hermione had gotten used to hearing genuine emotions in Blaise's tone. Therefore she was not surprised, but slightly flattered to hear the worry in his voice.  
  
"Well, you know me," Hermione shrugged. "And what are you, a Gryffindor? Why so worried?"  
  
"What, I'm not allowed to be concerned?"  
  
"Not if you want to maintain your reputation as a Slytherin," said Hermione innocently. "Now, get on with you before I change my mind and make you stay."  
  
"All right, if you say so, ma'am. Oh, any messages you want me to relay to anybody? Say, Draco?"  
  
She looked at him tiredly. "For the eightieth time, _no_," she told him. "Go away."  
  
"I'll see you at dinner, Hermione," Blaise said before walking off. It's true, he probably would see her, even if they were unlikely to speak or actually make eye contact. It was common knowledge that they were tolerant of each other, as with Harry and Draco, but the fact that they were friends was as yet still largely secret.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and took off through the trees. She had been feeling a dark presence for a while, but for some reason had not wanted Blaise to know. She followed it to a spot that was deeper than she would have liked. There, she stepped into a small, secluded clearing. It looked empty to her, but still she stepped carefully. Hearing a stick break behind her, she whirled. Upon seeing the cause of the sound, she gasped and backed up until she hit a tree. Part of her wanted to run away, but the other part was fascinated.  
  
"What are you doing here?" the dark creature asked in surprise.  
  
She did not answer right away. She noticed that her breathing was shallower than usual. "You… you're a vampire."  
  
"Yes, and you're a human. So? What are you doing here?" he repeated.  
  
"I- ah- what am I… research," she responded simply. In a way, it was the truth.  
  
"You are from the Ministry?"  
  
"No, I'm a student at Hogwarts."  
  
The vampire raised an eyebrow. "I thought they didn't allow students in the forest."  
  
"Well, strictly speaking - wait. How would you know that?"  
  
"Not every dark creature is an animal," he answered cryptically. "Why don't you relax? It will make me far more comfortable."  
  
"But… you won't try to drink my blood?"  
  
He had been pacing with his back to her. At this, he turned sharply toward Hermione. He glanced over her. "No," he said. "I will not."  
  
She took a step from the tree. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"  
  
"You don't know," he replied. He began to pace again, walking from one end of the clearing to another. Hermione watched him as she slowly made her way closer to the center, and saw that he was limping.  
  
"I've…er, never met a vampire before."  
  
"Perhaps a formal introduction would help to cure this awkwardness," the vampire said abruptly, ignoring Hermione's statement. "My name is Erik." He bowed.  
  
"Er, I…"  
  
"Would that be your name, then?" he inquired as his mouth acquired an odd twist.  
  
She rolled her eyes at Erik, and began to feel more like her confident self. She flipped her hair. "No, actually it's Hermione. Hermione Granger."  
  
"It is a pleasure, Hermione. Now, before you begin to ask me all sorts of questions, I will tell you why I am here. If in turn, you will tell me why you are here." Hermione nodded her consent, and he started an explanation. "I am here because I cannot travel more than twenty feet from the center of this clearing."  
  
"But why?" Hermione blurted out.  
  
"What is it that I said about questions?" Erik sighed. "Another vampire, who goes by the name Le Couteau, cast a spell on me. It was a simple location-binding spell, but I have not the means to break it, and I have no way to get them."  
  
"Do you know this other vampire well?" wondered Hermione.  
  
"I see that I will be unable to stop you from being curious. Yes, I did. I traveled with him for over a century. We parted ways twenty years ago, I think it was. I encountered him a few months ago, and we argued. He is very proud and vengeful. Therefore…" Erik waved a hand to encompass the clearing, and Hermione understood. "Now that I have revealed something of myself, it is your turn."  
  
Hermione cleared her throat. "It's a simple thing, really. My Defense professor gave us an assignment to try to feel dark energy in the forest. I suppose it was you I sensed, or possibly the spell. After my partner left, I came in search of the source."  
  
Erik nodded. "You were right, it is quite simple." He paused as he appraised her. "I can see that you have many more questions for me."  
  
"Oh, yes. I do."  
  
"Ask what you will. I may not give you all the answers you hope for, but there is no harm in curiosity. They say curiosity killed the cat, when really it was the spider's venom."  
  
Hermione smiled at the thought of Ron's face if he ever heard that. "Why don't you want to drink my blood?"  
  
"I only drink human blood if nothing else is available. Here, there is the stray bird or squirrel, sometimes deer, on which I can feed."  
  
Confused, Hermione shook her head. She had thought that all vampires fed off humans. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand. The texts all say that vampires drink the blood of humans, sometimes changing them to be like themselves."  
  
Erik dismissively threw up his right hand. "Rubbish. Vampires are _born_, not made. The changing of humans into vampires is a myth."  
  
"But the books say-"  
  
"Do they give hard evidence?" Erik asked, leaning toward her. "Have you ever seen someone changed?"  
  
Hermione backed up a step. "Well, no."  
  
"Don't believe everything you read," said Erik knowingly. "As I was saying, a vampire is as likely to drink the blood of animals as that of humans. It all depends on their morals and beliefs."  
  
"Vampires are dark creatures, aren't they?"  
  
"That mostly refers to our beginning. How the first of us came to be. But some humans kill, and some vampires don't. Blood is a part of our life, but we make the choice as to the type. We are more susceptible to evil because of our dark origins, but not all of us are the same. The only reason you do not hear about my style of vampire is our knack for cleaning up after ourselves. Those who feed from humans do not feel the need to keep their nature hidden."  
  
"And you do?" Hermione concluded.  
  
"If I want to live among people, which I find convenient, then yes. That is one of the reasons why Le Couteau knew this spell would be particularly effective. Extended solitude does not suit me." Erik looked up at the sky, where the sun was sinking slowly. Hermione put off the question that arose to ask another.  
  
"How long have you been here?"  
  
"It must be nearly a year. I am getting weaker every day."  
  
"Weaker?" Hermione repeated, startled. "Why?"  
  
"Food is scarce when you can only eat what passes by. Also, I cannot always escape the sun. Ah, I can tell you have a question about that. Yes, sunlight kills vampires. We can survive for a while, but the time varies depending on the particular vampire. At one time I could have stood the sun for three hours, now it is little more than an hour. In time, any exposure at all will be the end of me."  
  
Having been within reach of him for this entire conversation without being attacked, Hermione was inclined to believe his story. Therefore, she made a decision with the sympathetic part of her brain. "I could help you," she said quickly.  
  
Erik looked up at her with raised eyebrows. "How do you propose to do that?"  
  
She took a moment to look at him closely while she thought of exactly what to say. He reminded her just the slightest bit of Blaise, except that his eyes were blue, and his skin was a few shades paler. The hair was quite similar. "Well, I could find out how to break the spell. And I could try to find one to protect you from sunlight. I bet the house elves would let me have the excess blood from the meat they cook."  
  
"I do not want you to trouble so much over me," protested Erik.  
  
"You said yourself that you can't find the means to get out of this situation," Hermione said, a scold creeping into her voice. "Maybe I can. And I am going to try no matter what you say, so stop trying to dissuade me." She placed her hands on her hips.  
  
Grinning attractively, Erik took her hand up and kissed it. "You are quite the human, Hermione Granger. Will you be returning soon, then?"  
  
"I'll try to get back tomorrow. I'll take care of some of the research tonight, and the blood. Expect me in the morning, I should think."  
  
"I will." Erik folding himself into his dark cape and moved to an edge of the clearing, where he melted into the trees.  
  
"Wow," Hermione said under her breath. "I wish I could do that." She looked for him, but could see nothing. Shifting her pack, she turned and used a spell to find her way back through the forest.  
  
Luckily, everyone had gone inside by that time. No one was there to see her emerge. She hurried back to the castle, and discreetly ran toward the kitchen. On her way there, she ran into Ron.  
  
"Hermione, where are you going? The Great Hall is the other way."  
  
"I know that. I was on my way to the library," she lied. If she told him she was going to the kitchens, he would probably want to accompany her. "I have some spells to look up."  
  
"But you'll miss dinner," he whined.  
  
"It's all right, I'm not that hungry," she lied again. The elves would give her something.  
  
"Well, we'll miss you," Ron told her. "Should we come to the library later?"  
  
"Stop, you won't even notice I'm gone," she said. "Don't worry about me. Books are good company in my opinion, remember? I'll see you later in the common room. Loosen up, Ron." She had taken only a few steps before he called out and caused her to turn.  
  
"There was something I, er, wanted to ask you." He shuffled his feet for a moment, and looked down at the ground. She saw his ears turn red. "Would you go to the Halloween Ball with me?" he mumbled quickly.  
  
Hermione was flattered, but she still remembered fourth year and the Yule Ball. "I assume all the pretty girls were taken?" she could not resist saying.  
  
Ron grimaced. "Come on, Hermione. You know you're beautiful."  
  
She put a hand under his chin so she could look into his eyes. She smiled. "I'm sure it would be wonderful to go to the ball with you," she said, and started to leave.  
  
"Is that a yes?" Ron called after her.  
  
She laughed, "Yes!" she yelled over her shoulder. She took a roundabout route to the kitchen to be sure that everyone else would be at dinner. When she tickled the pear and entered, the house elves all greeted her with smiles.  
  
"How can we serve miss?" they asked her.  
  
"Well, I would like something for a snack. I'm not going to dinner." They came up with a generous selection, from which she chose things she could easily carry in her bag. "There is another thing I need. This may seem like a strange request…"

* * *

He was in the great ballroom of Malfoy manor. No other room could look the same. Yet it was not the ballroom. The colors were all different, and cobwebs were beginning to form, dulling the gilded décor. He took a few silent steps toward the grand staircase.  
  
Forms began to flicker around him. Mostly they were couples waltzing, dressed in clothing from the seventeenth century. A few small groups stood on the sidelines, and one figure, more hazy than the others, stood at the balcony of the landing. All of them had a ghostly pallor, and they did not remain in sight for more than a few seconds. Soft, eerie music fluttered around him.  
  
_This is not how I remembered it,_ he thought. This confused him, since he was fairly sure he had never seen this to begin with.  
  
He continued to walk among the specters, approaching the staircase at the far end of the room. He reached it, and ascended the stairs. Time was painfully slow. As he approached the landing, the figure at the top grew more substantial, while those at the bottom flicked faster in and out of view.  
  
Finally, he found himself at the top of the stairs, standing a few feet from Lucius Malfoy. He was wearing no shirt, something he had only seen twice in his lifetime, and something that surprised him even more, his eyes held fear when they turned to him. "What are they doing here?" he asked Lucius, gesturing to the dancing ghosts.  
  
Lucius did not answer, but turned his body to face him. "You know what happens next," he stated. His neck snapped then, and he fell to the ground in death. Lucius's body disappeared after his wand had rolled away between the posts of the banister.  
  
Draco turned away from the spot where his father had died, looking down to the main floor. Instead of the dancers he had seen previously, he saw a smaller group gathered by the base of the stairs. Voldemort stood on the fifth step, giving him a bit of extra height. Lucius was there, and so was he, strangely. Hermione, Blaise, and two others that he knew were being held by Death Eaters. A few more of Voldemort's disciples stood around him, making about twenty in all. It was unclear what was happening, but he felt that someone was about to die.  
  
Suddenly, a woman, one of the ghosts, was beside him. She was done up in all kinds of finery, and was quite pretty. She had dark hair and pale eyes, which pierced through Draco's like fire. She pointed to a door at one side of the ballroom that led into the first floor corridor. He looked in that direction and saw Narcissa emerge from it. She stood without moving for a moment, then a flash of green light caused her to pitch forward. His head whipped back to the group, and he saw Lucius with his wand extended.  
  
The woman standing beside him handed him a wand, but even as he gripped it he could not feel it. "It is your move," she said. Then she dissolved. Draco turned and saw the pale waltzers again, but this time they all lay dead on the floor.  
  
When Draco realized that he was back in his bed at Hogwarts, he remembered that he had just been sleeping, and probably dreaming. He checked the clock on the wall. It read a little after four in the morning.  
  
Annoyed, he threw off his covers and padded to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, drying it with a fresh, fluffy towel. As he was returning to his room, he thought about what he could do. Reading was an option, homework was not. He could wake Blaise and see if he had anything that would knock him out, but Blaise had a meeting in the morning with Hermione.  
  
The only thing he decided was available was reading. A boring enough book would put him to sleep quickly. He picked up the first one he found and brought it to the fireplace in the common room. It was not until he was settled in that he noticed the title. "Great," he muttered. "A history of my own family. Just what I'm in the mood for." Nevertheless, he opened it. Some of this pureblood history stuff was excruciatingly dull.  
  
His plan backfired when he got sucked into the portion of the book he had opened to. It was about Lucius and Darla Malfoy, both of whom had died in 1658. The book went into detail about their decadence, all the balls and parties they would throw. They were incredibly well-respected, and it was considered a high honor to be invited to an event sponsored by the head of the Malfoy family and his wife - even among royalty.  
  
Early in 1658, they held a ball in honor of Darla's birthday. All the guests and Darla ended up dead, assumed poisoned. As far as was known, Lucius did not eat any of the food served at the ball, and only drank the glass of wine he had been holding when he entered. As influential and powerful as the Malfoys had always been, the situation was far too dire. They could not clear Lucius's name of suspicion and guilt. He was executed by a severing spell that took off his head. After his death, the Malfoy estate went to his brother, Marcus, because Lucius and Darla had not had any children. Marcus redecorated the ballroom with brighter colors and intricate works of gold.  
  
On the next page was a picture of Darla and Lucius. Darla looked exactly like the woman from his dream had, with dark hair and pale green eyes, and Lucius could easily have been his own father. Sucking in his breath, Draco shut the book. His dream had to be more than just a random combination of surreal events.

* * *

Erik accepted Hermione's package with grace. "I will be in your debt when you have managed to release me from this spell," he told her. He opened the container of blood and began to drink from it. She watched him with odd fascination.  
  
"You know what I am," he said when he noticed her watching. "Drinking blood is a necessity. If you do not want to see it, do not watch."  
  
"That's not - it's just that I've never seen anyone look like that when they eat."  
  
Erik nodded, not asking for further explanation. Hermione did not give any. It would have been difficult to put into words. Instead, she asked, "You said before that you have to be discreet if you want to live among humans."  
  
"Yes, this is true."  
  
"Could you explain that to me?"  
  
"It is rather simple. From what humans _do_ know of vampires, they would drive me out if it was revealed what I was. They would kill me if possible, but most vampires are too quick to be caught by the kind of mob that would show up. I would have to leave the town, at least for a number of years."  
  
Hermione shifted her weight to her right foot as she scratched her forehead at the temple. "But why do you like living with humans?"  
  
"Humans are warm and stimulating," Erik said, a tinge of black excitement in his voice. "They can make me feel more alive than any creature of the darkness."  
  
Clearing her throat, Hermione said, "I should go. Blaise will be in our meeting place soon. If he sees me coming from the forest, he'll be suspicious. I'll come back when I find out more about how to break this spell."  
  
"Farewell, Hermione," Erik said with a sweeping bow. She nodded in response, adjusting her pack and stepping away from the clearing as he drank some more of the blood she had brought.  
  
A fair distance from the clearing, she took out her wand and cast a Summoning Spell. A dark creature of a small variety came swiftly toward her. Feeling bad, she captured it and held it in that area of the forest. Satisfied that the dark energy was stationary, Hermione left the forest.  
  
Blaise was waiting for her, sitting on the rock where they had met the previous day. He was facing the castle, thankfully, probably expecting her approach. If she came from behind, he would ask her why. Therefore, she moved a bit farther from him, then exited. When she called to him, she was far enough from the forest that she did not seem to have just come from it.  
  
"Where were you?" Blaise asked. "You must have been out early."  
  
"Oh, I went for a walk before this to clear my head. It felt a bit stuffy when I woke up this morning, and coffee didn't help."  
  
Blaise appeared to believe her, because he did not pursue the issue. "I need to tell you something before we get started. It has to do with Draco as well."  
  
"What?" sighed Hermione.  
  
"He and I want to meet with the three of you. You know, Potter and Weasley and you. We have a matter to discuss."  
  
"Is it very important? It sounds so."  
  
"I would say it's important. Can you do it?"  
  
"I can convince them to meet you, yes. We'll arrange it once I've gotten them to agree to it. Probably before the Halloween Ball, because if I have to wait that long I might just go mental. That gives us three weeks."  
  
"That sounds all right to me. On to the assignment, I remembered a spell that can sense dark spells cast within the past week. Perhaps it will help us."  
  
Intrigued, Hermione suggested that he use the spell.  
  
…TBC…

_Couteau_ is French for "knife"  
  
Reviews are soooooo nice.


	8. Out In The Open

* * *

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, even if you didn't exactly get it. I will explain to answer questions in a few sentences. Anyway, generally speaking I don't even write a new chapter until two or even three weeks after the previous one was posted. But I'm just in the mood for this Important!Chapter.Reviews: Some people were confused by the dream. Two people got half of the answer. There was both fore and backshadowing in Draco's dream. The fore- was the part that did not go along with the rest, the back- was the woman, the shirtless man who looked like his father, and all the dead people. But to those who did not understand it, or wondered what Hermione and Blaise were doing in the past, I have something to say to you. 1: Whoever told you dreams occurred in linear time? They were wrong. 2: What, you've never had a weird dream in which nothing went together or really made sense? Because I know I have. There is another matter to address; that of whether Hermione is a dark creature. It was an interesting idea, but in your own words, you're seeing things that aren't there. Hermione is just a human. Lupin's meaningful comment was meaningful because he is a werewolf - a dark creature.  
  
That was long. I think it's time for the chapter.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Out In The Open_

Being in the same class as Hermione and Blaise, Harry and Draco had to accomplish the same task. They met on Sunday just after lunch, and they were much more successful as a pair on their first attempt than the others had been.  
  
Draco knew the same spell that Blaise did for detecting dark magic. He cast it quietly so Harry wouldn't hear the words. "_Compertus_ _maleficus_." Immediately, a whispy jet of a dark, misty substance shot out of his wand and began to tangle through the trees. As it started to fade from the end, he said to Harry, "Come on, hurry or we'll lose it!" He took off through the trees, following the trail.  
  
Unfortunately, due to the headstart the mist had, he could not keep up. It faded fast before his eyes. Draco stopped running when he realized that he had lost both the spell and Harry. He turned back, cursing, and called, "Potter?"  
  
A moment later, a voice called back, "Yeah. Where are you?"  
  
Draco walked to the source of the voice, and found Harry leaning against a tree, fumbling with his shoelace. "What happened to you?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Rock in my shoe," he muttered. He pulled his shoe off with a jerk, and a small, hard object flew out and bounced off a tree a few feet from Draco's head. Thinking he heard something a little way off, Draco took a few steps back in the direction he had been running, and peered through the trees. Nothing more revealed anyone else but the two of them. Sighing, he returned to Harry, who had put his shoe back on.  
  
"I thought you were detecting some dark magic," said Harry.  
  
"I was, but the spell ended before I could find-" Draco cut himself off, turning the way the mist had indicated once again as he thought. He did the Malfoy equivalent of hitting himself in the forehead, which happened to be hexing an inanimate object. "I knew something wasn't right about that! Potter, the spell I used would only end like that for one reason. It can only be detected by a certain warning spell, which I am fairly sure only a few incredibly competent wizards know. This spell does not tell whoever cast it if they have been spied on, but diminishes the locator too quickly for anyone to follow it. But the shield, the warning spell, will only work while the person who set it up is in the vicinity."  
  
Comprehension dawned on Harry, as Draco could tell from his face. "Which means that someone is casting dark spells in this forest right now."  
  
Draco nodded, held a finger to his lips, and turned to walk quietly through the trees. He looked back once to be sure Harry followed, but then he put all his concentration into tracking. Most wizards would know nothing about hunting, and his father would probably have grounded him if he had discovered Draco knew, but he had begun to learn at a young age how to track by Muggle means. He was just as puzzled now by the fact that it had been his mother's request as he had been at the beginning of his training.  
  
"Draco," Harry whispered. Draco looked sharply at him, but something in Harry's face made him curious. He gestured for him to continue. "Why didn't you let me hear that spell?"  
  
The question was asked bluntly, as he would expect, but the nature of the question was so un-Gryffindor that he was too shocked to answer for a moment. When he had recovered, he still hesitated. The truth was that Harry got into enough trouble on his own, and Draco did not want to see what would happen if he had another guide to the dark forces of the wizarding world. However, he would not dare let Harry know that he was trying to protect him. Instead of answering, he turned his head and listened intently to the rustling of leaves. He then beckoned for Harry to trail him.  
  
Soon enough, they came upon the wizard casting the dark spells he had found with _Compertus Maleficus_. Draco prided himself on his ability to creep behind someone unnoticed. He could not boast the same of Harry Potter. He heard a twig break, but oddly, it did not come from behind him. It came from the other side of the stranger. Cursing headstrong Gryffindors for not following his directions, he whipped out his wand. He couldn't risk that Harry would lose in a duel.  
  
"_Amburere!_" Draco proclaimed. A bolt of white fire exploded from the tip of his wand, hitting the man in the back. He winced and turned, pointing his own wand at Draco. "_Stupefy!_" Draco said. The man was struck before he could get out a spell, and crumpled to the ground.  
  
Harry blew out a breath. "Good work."  
  
Draco nodded in response. He trod to the prone form and turned it over with his foot. "It's not anyone I recognize, but I don't doubt he's a Death Eater. It looks like he never got to accomplish his task here. I think the spells he used were mainly preparation."  
  
Harry approached them warily, surveying the man's supplies. "I wonder what he was doing. Do you know how to find out what spells he used?"  
  
Draco looked around at the cloths and vials lying on the forest floor, and he knew immediately what the man had intended. _Blood collecting. But the blood of whom…or what?_ He emitted a low whistle.  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"Nothing. We should do something with this guy."  
  
Harry nodded, and pointed his wand at the unconscious man. "_Mobilicorpus_!" Instead of rising from the ground, he disappeared as though Apparating. Not only was that impossible on Hogwarts grounds, but it was impossible while unconscious. Draco and Harry looked at each other, alarmed. "Should we take this stuff with us?" Harry asked after a moment.  
  
Draco looked at it all. He consented, "I suppose. At least some of the professors should know what was going on here." This was true; hopefully, if any of them suspected he knew, it would only be Dumbledore.  
  
On their way back to the castle, Harry returned to an earlier question. "You never told me why you said that spell so quietly."  
  
Draco looked straight ahead for a while. He still did not know what to tell Harry about it. They were both silent for a few minutes, until Harry spoke. "Draco?"  
  
"Listen, it's just not for me to teach you." Draco had never bothered with things like this in the past, but it was the truth. Even if Harry could stay out of trouble with it, he himself would get into trouble if he was caught teaching dark spells. He glanced at Harry, who had just opened his mouth to respond. "Drop it, all right?"  
  
Looking displeased, Harry didn't say anything else about it. Instead, he asked, "Should we tell Dumbledore about the Death Eater?"  
  
"We'll have to, won't we? Otherwise, how would we explain all this stuff?" Draco retorted, gesturing at the wizard's confiscated supplies. "Unless you're proposing we should keep it."  
  
"Why not? It's what I would have done in past years."  
  
Draco cleared his throat discreetly. He was not sure he wanted the Gryffindors to find out what the man had been doing, as they surely would if Hermione had the chance to investigate. "Let's just get back to the castle and see, shall we?"  
  
Harry halted suddenly. "Wait." Draco turned, raising an eyebrow at him in question. "What are we going to tell Lupin? We didn't find out what spells he was using, and I'm guessing you don't want to reveal the tracking spell that you used."  
  
"Good point," said Draco. "We'll either have to do it again, or lie." He looked expectantly at Harry, and nodded. "I thought so. We'll come back tomorrow during lunch. We can easily bring something to eat along with us."  
  
"Well, I'm sure Ron won't miss me for a day. He seems to be fairly distracted these days."  
  
"And no one would _ever_ know why," Draco muttered sardonically. It was no secret, at least within Slytherin House, that Ron had possessed a romantic interest in Hermione for the past year. Draco suppressed a smirk at the thought that he had beat Weasley to Hermione's lips.  
  
"What? You think you know him or something?" Harry demanded. Draco just shook his head. _Gryffindors…  
_  
They found Hermione within the fringe of the forest. She greeted them distantly, and Harry asked, "What were you doing in there?"  
  
She directly met their gazes and said, "I expect the same as you two. I was doing some of the homework. Blaise couldn't make it, but I didn't want us to get behind. I know, Harry, we aren't supposed to go into the woods alone. I didn't go far; it was fine."  
  
Draco's brow just barely furrowed. Blaise had told him that Hermione would be busy that day, and they would not be working on the Defense assignment. He said that he had suggested to her that they get it done during the weekend, but she had something else to do that afternoon. He was not going to tell Harry, but he wondered.  
  
What was Hermione up to?  
  
"By the way, Harry, I need to speak to you and Ron right away."  
  
"No problem. I have one thing to do, but I'll meet you in the common room in fifteen minutes," said Harry. Hermione nodded and quickened her stride. Once she was out of earshot, Harry turned to Draco. "Were you just thinking that Hermione is up to something? Because I was, too."

* * *

Just after dinner that same night, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny gathered in the Room of Requirement. The room was smaller this time, with a few couches set close together. It was appropriate for their intentions, as could be expected. The three of them waited, Harry impatiently. Only a few minutes passed before the door opened, and Draco and Blaise walked in.  
  
"Ever heard of punctuality?" Harry muttered. He turned his head as he sat to see Draco smirk amusedly, and glared at him.  
  
"Good, now that we're all here, we can start," Hermione said.  
  
"Wait a minute," Draco interrupted. "What happened to the tall redhead who is normally surgically attached to the two of you?" It did not take someone of great intelligence to know he was talking about Ron.  
  
Harry glanced down as he said, "He wouldn't come."  
  
"Wouldn't?"  
  
"Yes, _wouldn't_, did you not hear me the first time? _Wouldn't_, as in refused," snapped Harry.  
  
"All right, calm down, Potter."  
  
He was not really annoyed with Draco, but with Ron. He had tried his hardest to convince him that the Slytherins did not have some underlying motive. He had explained how Draco had pretty much saved his life in the forest, but Ron's anger only increased the more Harry defended Draco Malfoy. Now, he knew Ron would not speak to him for a while.  
  
"Right, we need to-" Hermione started, but cut off because Blaise and Ginny were sharing a look. Harry nearly forgot the argument he was having with his best friend as he fought down his grin.  
  
"You're Ron Weasley's sister, right?"  
  
"Ginny Weasley," she said, smiling amicably.  
  
"I'm Blaise Zabini," he introduced himself.  
  
Ginny just nodded. "I know."  
  
At that point, Draco jumped in. "I'm glad we're making new friends, but we came here for a reason, you know. The two of you can flirt later."  
  
Neither of them blushed, as Harry might have done. Blaise shook his head with his eyes narrowed, a Look that might have phased anyone but Draco. Ginny sat back with a knowing smile, and she gestured that someone should begin speaking.  
  
"Now that we've taken care of that distraction, why don't you continue, Hermione," said Draco. She looked at him strangely, though Harry could not say just what was strange, and began to speak.  
  
"Ahem. Well, I know something about why we are here, but not everything. I know that you two are in the midst of Voldemort and his followers, but do not want any part in it. What I want to find out is exactly why you came to us."  
  
Harry thought that was fair. Apparently, so did Blaise. "Hermione, I'm surprised. I would have thought you'd figured it out by now. However, I guess I can explain it. There are two major things, really. One is that we are both in too deep to pull ourselves out. We know all about you and how you've thwarted Voldemort numerous times, so we decided that it would be a good idea to team up."  
  
"Why don't you just ask Dumbledore?" Ginny piped up. "He's been fighting the forces of darkness much longer than we have."  
  
"If it comes to that, we will," Blaise responded, looking directly at her, "but that would be even more suspicious than meeting with you. We don't need adults yet. Besides, think about it. A Gryffindor and Slytherin alliance - and we're willing to add Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to that as well. The Slytherins have been separated from the school as the Bad House for too long. That stereotype could be dissolved if we make friends with the right people."  
  
"There are many more Slytherins than just you," Harry pointed out. "They're not changing."  
  
"Ah, but that's where part two comes in," Draco said, a gleam in his eye that told Harry he had a good idea. "Not being part of the Slytherin hierarchy, you have no idea how influential Blaise and I are within our House. We could convince them, one by one if we have to, that joining Voldemort, supporting him in any way, is a bad idea."  
  
Hermione snorted.  
  
"You don't believe me?" Draco asked her. "Why don't we try it, then? You just wait, and see for yourself how many Slytherins have had a change of mind. We already know which ones support Voldemort and which ones don't. We know who to talk to so that those who have already been sucked in will not find out what we're doing until it's too late. Most importantly," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, "we know which students in the other Houses support Voldemort."  
  
"In other Houses?" Ginny repeated. "That never crossed my mind. Gryffindors, as well?"  
  
"A few," Draco answered. "You Gryffindors have too high a sense of honor to serve a Dark wizard, as a general rule. There are always exceptions, though. Pettigrew was a Gryffindor." Harry's jaw clenched at hearing the name. He had been doing so well at not reminding himself of Sirius. "We can search them out and bring them back to our side."  
  
There was silence as this sank in. He felt like breaking it, but held back for some reason. At last, Hermione spoke. "There's no harm in trying, I suppose."  
  
"Thank you for that vote of confidence," Draco said. She rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"You'll see in the end, Hermione, that we were right," Blaise added. "Think about this. Draco and I have every reason to believe we will succeed. Hogwarts could finally be united. Our biggest threat is ourselves. If the younger generation sticks together, Voldemort can't win."  
  
She was looking at him as though she had never seen him before. Ginny's expression was impressed and intrigued. Blaise looked at her and smiled, running his hand through his hair. Harry looked back to Hermione, who seemed to have gone catatonic.  
  
"Harry?" He whipped around at the sound of his name. Draco was calling him. "You haven't said much. That's unusual."  
  
"I think you're right," he said simply. "If we want to keep Voldemort from gaining any more supporters, and possibly cause him to lose some, you two are the best for the job. They're more liable to listen to you, because you are not authority figures, but well-known students. Psychologically, it makes sense that it would work." The others were all looking at him, surprised. He shrugged. "I took refuge in the library this summer when I was with the Dursleys."  
  
"One yes vote," Draco said. "Added to the two of ours." He gestured to include Blaise and himself. "Ginny?"  
  
"I can't see any reason not to." She cocked her head to one side. "That doesn't mean that I completely trust you yet, though."  
  
Draco nodded, then turned an intense gaze on Hermione. "Normally, I would want more time to think about it," she began. "I know that the two of you mean what you say, but I have to consider how dangerous it is to get involved in this. No one can really know what is at stake for anyone else."  
  
"Why don't we get that out in the open, then?" Draco suggested. "For me, it's freedom. The freedom to control my own life and to live it. Because believe me, I will die if I can't get out."  
  
Harry's heart missed a beat, and he wondered why. He would never have expected Draco to be so blunt about anything. Now, this was twice since the beginning of school that he had said exactly what he meant when it was important. It compelled him to speak next. "My life is what is at stake," he said. "But not only mine. The lives of my friends and anyone who helps me are endangered because of Voldemort. Whatever means can stop him, I'm willing."  
  
"Harry, none of those deaths were your - "  
  
" - fault," he finished for Hermione. "I've heard it a million times, and I'm still not convinced." She pursed her lips.  
  
Ginny turned and looked at them all. "The world I love." She had said it in simple words, as she tended to do.  
  
"If I get stuck with the job of a Death Eater, I'll never have the chance to do anything with my life," Blaise said. "My father thinks he's done something. He always acts as though he were the most important man in the world. All he's brought to the world are a few murders and an unhappy family. I want the opportunity to be good." If Harry had expected anything from Blaise, it was nothing like that. Slytherins were better at keeping secrets and inventing pretenses than he had ever given them credit for.  
  
At last, Hermione's turn had come. She looked around at them all, and Harry was confused by the look he read on her face. She had much to say, he knew. She was simply hesitating to say it. Of all the people Harry had met, she had always been the first to speak her mind. Now, when he thought she was more solid in her convictions than ever, she balked.  
  
Though she did not say anything at first, she might have in time if Draco had not blurted out, "Come on, Hermione, tell us what you're fighting for. Your precious books and perfect grades? Your brand new stylish appearance? What is it that is most important to you?"  
  
Hermione gave him a hard look. Harry was almost afraid that she would take drastic action, even when it was unlike her to do so. She had already surprised him countless times over the past two months. At last, she stood quietly, gathered her things, and walked deliberately toward the door. "Fine. I will give a chance to this alliance you've described." She then left without another word.  
  
"Bloody hell, Draco, what did you do that for?" Blaise asked as soon as Hermione was gone. Draco, who had been looking at the door, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.  
  
"I don't know. But at least we got her to agree."  
  
"If you two are fighting all the time, this is not going to work," Harry admonished.

"You think so?" Draco retorted, sarcasm apparent in his voice. He sighed. "I'll talk to her tomorrow, will that satisfy you?"  
  
"I'm not trying to make you angry," said Harry defensively.  
  
"I know that. Look, I'm going to go." He left then, as good as his word, leaving Harry with Blaise and Ginny, who looked like they wanted to be alone for a while. He followed the lead of Hermione and Draco, and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. However, it took him hours to get to sleep that night as he pondered what had transpired between the five of them. It did not help that Ron was giving him the cold shoulder.  
  
Exasperated, he turned over and nestled into his pillow.

* * *

Ginny was amazed that all it took to become completely confused was an excuse to go to the library and one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears TM. The day after their meeting which resulted in an alliance with the Slytherins, she was peering through the stacks at Hermione with an Ear to listen in. At first it was incredibly boring. Hermione was alone, and the most Ginny heard was a rustling of pages. She resisted the urge to go talk to her friend in favor of finding out what was happening.  
  
Her impatient waiting was rewarded when Draco approached. "Hermione," he said softly. She did not look up at first, but kept reading. A moment passed before Draco seemed to decide that she had not heard him. "Hermione." This time it was a little louder.  
  
Hermione raised her head briefly before returning to her book. "I'm busy," she told him curtly. Ignoring this, Draco sat down across the table from her and looked directly at her.  
  
"I need to talk to you."  
  
She slammed her book shut to make her annoyance clear. Ginny jumped slightly. "Make it quick, then. I'm busy." Draco appeared to be regarding her carefully with a Gaze. It was hard to tell with his back facing Ginny, but it was very likely. A minute passed, then Hermione opened the book again and began to read, paying no attention to Draco.  
  
"I apologize for what I said yesterday, just before you left the room. It was rude of me to say those things," said Draco.  
  
"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, looking quite engrossed in reading.  
  
Ginny could imagine Draco's eyes flash at having a Malfoy apology discarded so carelessly. "Even if they _are_ true," he added.  
  
Hermione glared at him. "You know, every time I start to think you aren't that bad, you turn around and say something that makes me hate you again. Starting with what happened this summer."  
  
This caught Ginny by surprise. As far as she knew, Hermione and Draco only interacted at school, and even then only when absolutely necessary. She doubted Harry and Ron knew anything about Hermione meeting with anyone in the summer.  
  
She suddenly remembered trying to pry Hermione's secret out of her a few months ago. Could Draco Malfoy possibly be involved in the one thing Hermione would not tell her closest friends? It was beyond Ginny's imagination, but not beyond thinkable.  
  
"When are you going to let that go, Hermione?" Draco asked with a sigh.  
  
Hermione looked at him with disbelief. "Do you even _know_ what you just said?"  
  
"Sod it all, how important was that to you, really? Did you think that we would continue forever?"  
  
"No, I just wish you could have been a bit nicer is all. If you weren't such a huge prat, we could probably be friends. I've known for a long time that you don't care about bloodlines." Ginny wondered what Hermione considered to be a long time.  
  
"I'm not a prat," Draco defended indignantly.  
  
"No? Why did you say those things, then?"  
  
"To aggravate you."  
  
Hermione gave him a pointed look.  
  
"Well, okay, maybe I do act rashly on occasion."  
  
"On occasion! Oh, that's a laugh. I'm surprised they don't make a cream for people as rash as you."  
  
"That is disgusting," Draco said, voicing Ginny's sentiment. "Hermione, do you know why I am that way? Well, I'll tell you then. It's because you won't talk to me."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Of course I will."  
  
"No, you won't! Ever since school started, you've been utterly cold."  
  
"What do you expect, Draco? That you can drop me and still have me fawning all over you like that chit Pansy?"  
  
"She's not a chit, she's just hopeful," Draco responded. "And no, I do not expect anything of the sort from you, someone with so much dignity to their name." Hermione looked about to slap him. "Why don't you just tell me, Hermione, and I'll go away. I promise."  
  
Silence reigned as Hermione kept her jaw clenched. Ginny could almost feel Draco smirking, and immediately Hermione's tongue was loosened. "The whole reason I decided to change was so people would not judge me that way. I'm tired of being known as a bookworm and teacher's pet. I want people to want to know me. But I guess I'm just the same old Hermione."  
  
"But you're the same old Hermione with much better hair _and_ a more fashionable wardrobe," Draco pointed out, and Ginny could not help but smile. When he next spoke, his voice was lower. "That's beside the point, though. Whoever said that being the same old Hermione was such a bad thing?"  
  
She looked up, her eyes filled with some emotion Ginny could not place. "It wasn't good enough for Draco Malfoy."  
  
She thought Draco was looking down at the table; his head had lowered a few inches. "There is more to it, Hermione. Things beneath the surface that you would never guess."  
  
"Then tell me," she whispered.  
  
"No. I understand you, I really do. But I can't tell you. It's just… just… did you hear that?" He turned in his seat.  
  
Ginny covered her mouth. She realized that she had just shifted some books on the shelf to get a better view. She had not thought it would be loud enough for them to hear. Quickly, she pulled the Extendable Ear toward her, and made a break for it. Neither of them followed her from the library.  
  
"If they had," she muttered to herself. "I might have gotten some answers." Now she knew part of what was going on with Hermione. It was almost worse than knowing nothing at all. She had a feeling that telling anyone about what had transpired between them was a bad idea - that included talking to Hermione.  
  
Ginny's mood brightened considerably when she remembered that she was meeting Blaise in one of the empty classrooms in an hour.  
  
…TBC…  
  
Who can guess who Blaise is paired with? No one? …wow, you people are slower than I thought. Just kidding! I'm sure you all know by now. The Very Obvious Clues are in this chapter. Now I would like it very very much if you would review. In the next chapter, the Halloween Ball occurs. I would like to hear your ideas for the ball, and I might use some of the really good ones. 


	9. Worried Eyes

A/N: I know it took a really, really, really, really, really long time and everyone who reads this has been waiting. I'm sorry. I'm not going to feel guilty, though. I'm pretty sure I already mentioned that I write these chapters as I get to them. I only got to the end of this chapter today. Hopefully the four page apprx. extra length will make up a little for how long it took to post.

I hope the readers of this story realize that the entire thing is about Draco/Hermione interactions and romance. It's just different because they have a romantic past. Don't worry, a few more chapters will have things heated up a bit. And I'm sure you'll all enjoy this chapter... It's choc full of crucial plot points. It's one of those VeryImportant!Chapters that I was talking about before. So I don't continue to ramble, I'll just let you read the chapter.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Worried Eyes  
_  
Hermione hoped that the effort she and Anthony Goldstein had put into planning the Halloween Ball would not go to waste. They had gone to great pains to come up with creative and novel ideas. It had taken many hours of their precious studying time, and it would be a shame if it had all been for nothing. She voiced this sentiment to Ginny, who was putting on her costume in Hermione's room for privacy.  
  
"Hermione, I can't believe you're even talking like that," said Ginny reproachfully. "You couldn't possibly disappoint the entire school. I know you wouldn't. You'd kill yourself first."  
  
"That's likely to be true," muttered Hermione. She was busy applying makeup that would be fitting for a lady of the seventeenth century. "Thanks, Ginny. It helps to have some reassurance once in a while."  
  
"You should never worry, Hermione. It causes wrinkles." Ginny was putting a spell on her hair that turned it black. "Are you going with Ron?"  
  
"Yes. He's still in a strop with Harry over the whole Draco thing, but he said he isn't mad at me. Even though I told him that I'm involved with the arrangement as well. I simply cannot comprehend him."  
  
"You still don't know?" Ginny asked. Hermione paused in her costume application to look at the younger girl. When Ginny only stared at her incredulously, she shook her head and turned back to the mirror. "He's been in love with you for years."  
  
"_What?_" Hermione dropped the makeup brush onto her bureau, whipping around to face Ginny. "Ginny, you can't be serious."  
  
"Hermione, you have to know it's the truth. Why do you think he fights with you so much?"  
  
"If he loved me, he would try to be nicer."  
  
"Many people are afraid of love," Ginny said knowingly. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have told you. But now you can just tell him that you don't feel the same way, and you can both get on with your lives."  
  
"How do you know I'm not in love with Ron?" Hermione demanded.  
  
Ginny turned a bit, her hands on her hips. "It's the difference in the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you. You care for him, yes, but you don't love him. As for Ron… I think the entire school knows his feelings."  
  
Hermione stood still, shocked into silence for a minute. "Why didn't anyone tell me, then?" If the entire school knew Ron loved her, _someon_e should have had the decency to tell her.  
  
"Hermione," Ginny answered witheringly, "we all thought you knew. I might have told you if I thought you needed to be told." She drew a long, red leather coat on over her black lacy dress. She wore an elaborate black and red necklace, black, old-fashioned boots, and black fishnet stockings. Her face was paled with makeup, and her lipstick and eye shadow created a sexy, sophisticated effect. Her now-black, shiny hair had been crimped into elegant waves. "What do you think of it?" she asked Hermione, twirling to show off her costume.  
  
"It's stunning, Ginny. But what are you supposed to be?"  
  
"A vampire," Ginny said. "Before you say anything, I know that not all vampires would look like this, but you should know that I once saw a vampire dressed similarly. Besides, look at the teeth." She opened her mouth to reveal very realistic fangs.  
  
"It's a good costume," Hermione admitted. She had been thinking of Erik the moment Ginny said vampire, and what he had told her about stereotypes being incorrect. "Now that you've finished, will you help me lace up my corset? There's a spell, but it's been known to go wrong and break ribs. I don't want to risk that."  
  
In no time, Ginny had the corset done, and Hermione slipped into the mid-seventeenth-century dress. "Why do you need a corset anyway?" Ginny asked.  
  
"I want this costume to be as accurate as possible. We're having a contest, to be judged by the professors. Besides, it looks better." The dress was silk of two colors. The main part was white, and the skirt was split, opened in front to reveal the layer underneath of blood red. The sleeves were flared from the elbow, as was the style in that time, and the neckline lower than she had always worn, until a couple of months ago.  
  
"You're right about that," said Ginny. "You're absolutely gorgeous."  
  
"Thanks," Hermione smiled. She styled her hair with a spell, piling it regally on her head, and then pinned a glittering ruby-colored stone in the shape of a rose into it. She grinned at her reflection. "Let's go," she said.  
  
"So, who's your date for the ball?" Hermione asked as they descended to the common room.  
  
"Blaise," Ginny replied, half-smiling in a way that showed off her vampire fangs. It was sinisterly attractive.  
  
"Are you two a couple? You spend an awful lot of time together."  
  
"No. We're not that serious. I would describe us as… two people who like to spend time together. In empty classrooms."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "You're terrible."  
  
"Thank you." They both laughed, and then they had reached the common room. Ron was waiting for Hermione, dressed in a Chudley Cannons uniform. Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances. "How original," Ginny whispered to Hermione.  
  
Hermione shushed her, then went to join Ron. "Ready?" she asked.  
  
He nodded, his eyes wide. "You're so… different."  
  
"I suppose I'll take that as a compliment," she said with a smile as she slipped her arm into his. "I like your costume, too. It's very you." She was not about to point out that the purpose of Halloween was dress up in something completely _not_ you.  
  
Ron blushed and cleared his throat. He mumbled something, too garbled for Hermione to make out. They passed the rest of the journey to the Great Hall in relative silence, glancing at the variety of costumes as younger students ran or strolled past them. Hermione noticed that there were some very original costumes among them.  
  
The Great Hall was beginning to fill up when they reached it. Music was playing, and refreshments were being consumed. Hermione's name was called. She and Ron turned toward the sound. Harry was weaving through the crowd toward them. Ron cleared his throat again, this time angrily. "I think I'll get us some drinks," he said. He left her standing there, rolling her eyes at him.  
  
Harry said to her when he was within speaking range, "Is he still mad?"  
  
"I guess," she shrugged. A quick appraisal of Harry allowed her to see his scruffy leather-ish, other-worldly clothing and the sword at his hip. What gave his costume away were the ring, necklace, and hair. "So, Aragorn, how are you enjoying it so far?"  
  
Harry grinned and scratched his head in quite an unkingly manner. "What about you? You look amazing. Did you make it?"  
  
"Oh, of course not. I bought it. I'm not _that_ talented. But that isn't the point, is it?"  
  
Harry shook his head. He leaned in closer, and murmured conspiratorially, "Wait until you see what Malfoy's dressed as. You'll hardly believe it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"See for yourself." Hermione scanned the crowd. Though his hair in its unique shade of blonde usually made him stand out in a crowd, she did not see him. Not that she really wanted to, as she told herself firmly. "Ron's coming back, I'd better go. I'll see you again in a while, all right?"  
  
"Yes, Harry. Have fun."  
  
Ron was by her side, handing her a glass of pumpkin juice, in a moment. "Everything looks great here," he said. He peered over heads to find Harry. His eyes narrowed when he spotted him. Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron spoke before she could. "What did he want?"  
  
"He?" Hermione repeated. "Ron, you're talking about your best friend. How can you be so angry with him and not with me?"  
  
"He's associating with Malfoy. And Zabini," Ron growled.  
  
"So am I!" Hermione told him loudly, trying to make him understand. "We all have to be in this together, Ron, or we'll _all_ end up failing. You don't know the whole story because Draco and Blaise haven't had a chance to talk to you. I have a feeling you wouldn't believe them even if they did. Maybe it's better that you're not involved in this."  
  
"You don't understand, either, Hermione," Ron burst out, and looked at her darkly. "You think you know everything, but you don't understand at all."  
  
"Why don't you tell me, then?" Hermione asked in a patient but clearly offended voice. Ron downed his pumpkin juice and set the empty glass on a table nearby.  
  
"You've heard Malfoy insult my family more times than anyone could count. If I accept this alliance thing, I'm betraying their honor. I'm not worried about the things he says about me, but I can't forget the insult to my family. I don't know how you can just disregard all the times he's called you a Mudblood." He sighed very heavily. "I've got to go to the loo," he said. "Be back in a few minutes."  
  
Ron left, and Hermione immediately felt bad that she had judged Ron for his feelings. Still, she hated when Harry and Ron were fighting. Trying to forget his plight in favor of having fun, she worked her way into the mob. She stopped to talk to Anthony, Ginny and Blaise, Parvati and Lavender, and a group of fifth years, in that order. They all assured her that her costume was incredible and they were enjoying the ball. Ginny said the latter with a mischievous wink before she and Blaise made for a more private setting.  
  
"Those two are going to get each other into so much trouble," Hermione said to herself. She laughed slightly. "I hope they have fun."  
  
"So do I," said a voice next to her. She turned to see who it belonged to.  
  
"Harry, there was no need to sneak up behind me," she admonished.  
  
"A thousand apologies, milady," he said with a bow. That voice was not Harry's voice. And the person standing beside her was not dressed as Aragorn, but as Harry. He was wearing old blue jeans, a green sweater, and sneakers. He had on Harry's glasses, and his hair was Harry's as well. His eyes, however, were a familiar grey.  
  
Hermione's mouth fell open. "_Draco?_"  
  
"Ah, no, she's guessed my true identity! I must away."  
  
At that point, Hermione was bent a bit at the middle in laughter. She felt water forming in her eyes from her ardent mirth. She sucked in a few deep breaths in order to talk. "That costume- ahaha- oh, gods, it's so great! Ahahahaha… are those actually Harry's clothes?"  
  
Draco nodded. "I had to alter them a bit to fit me properly, but they came straight from his wardrobe. If you could even call it that," he added, looking down with an expression of slight distaste. "I suppose it's all right for most people, but Malfoys never dress in such a way."  
  
Now that she looked more closely, Hermione could see that he did not really look like Harry. His face was his own, and those eyes could only belong to one person. It was probably a good thing, because otherwise no one would be able to tell the difference. With Harry dressed as Aragorn, most people would approach Draco when meaning to find Harry. It would be most confusing.  
  
"Can I ask you a question, Hermione?" Draco asked.  
  
"You did," she said. He rolled his eyes. She lifted her eyebrows at him expectantly. He seemed like he was considering whether he should speak. "I was joking, Draco. You can ask me anything. That does not guarantee that I'll answer, but…"  
  
"Hermione, it's time for the Head Boy/Head Girl dance!" Anthony called to her from about twenty feet away.  
  
Hermione glanced at Draco, suppressing a groan. He had insisted on practicing, convinced that they had to look good in front of the rest of the school. She had not wanted to argue, so she had gone along with it. Now, she took the arm he offered, and let him lead her to the space that was clearing in the middle of the floor.  
  
_Just get it over with.  
_  
A song began that had something to do with love and caring and sounded very pretty, but annoyed Hermione. "Did you pick out this song?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah. I thought it would create a nice effect, and then others would start dancing." He looked around them. "It seems to be working."  
  
They talked a little, about trivial things. Anthony mentioned the decorations, Hermione revealed how many people had told her that they did well with the Halloween Ball. She held back innumerable yawns while they danced. She thought this unusual, because she very rarely yawned at all, but never when she was bored. He must be the dullest person she had ever known, she decided.  
  
Wanting a distraction, Hermione tilted her head upward to look at the ceiling full of stars. She smiled at the sky's beauty. _I wonder if I could ever enjoy flying. It would be such a wonder to fly close to the stars.  
_  
Her dance partner slowed in the monotonous circles he was cutting. She looked down just in time to see Draco/Harry standing by them. "May I cut in?" he asked, the very picture of politeness. Anthony relented.  
  
"Thank you for the dance, Hermione. I'll see you later. We should meet later in the week to start planning trips to-"  
  
"It was no trouble, Anthony," she responded, interrupting. It was not the time for duties, as far as she was concerned. She nodded to him, and he left. She may have imagined a tinge of reluctance in his step.  
  
"Lady Granger?" Draco prompted, holding his hand out to her.  
  
Feeling confused, she took it, and they began to dance. She could not deny that he had quite a skill in that area. A smile sprang up unbidden after a few minutes. "Tell me, Monsieur Malfoy, whose idea was it for you to dress up as Harry?" She laughed.  
  
"It was mine," he answered simply. "And now I will ask you something. Where did you get your costume?"  
  
"I found it in a store in London, this summer," Hermione told him. "Why?"  
  
He pursed his lips for a moment. "Are you at all familiar with the name Darla Malfoy?"  
  
"I think so," she said slowly. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember. "She died in 1658, didn't she? Along with all the guests at her birthday celebration. She was married to-" she stopped herself, looking up into his eyes.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy," Draco finished. He proceeded to explain. "It's a family name. Many of our ancestors have shared it."  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"You remind me so much of Darla Malfoy in that costume."  
  
Hermione waited a moment, then asked, "How do you know what she looks like?"  
  
"I saw a picture of her in one of the Malfoy history books. Her eyes were pale green, but otherwise you look almost exactly the same."  
  
"…Is that a good thing?"  
  
"Well, she is beautiful, if that is what you're getting at." He avoided her eyes. "She was poisoned, supposedly by her husband."  
  
"Supposedly?"  
  
"I personally could not prove he did it. They lived hundreds of years ago. But I'm not saying I don't think it was him. I really, really do. Malfoy women are not the luckiest you could name. Many of them die prematurely."  
  
_Are you trying to tell me something?_ she asked him silently.  
  
"I want to ask you something else," Draco said with a half-smile. "Has Harry ever looked better?" He _Posed_ with his face.  
  
Hermione snorted. "I happen to consider Harry to be a very attractive person."  
  
"But you've never kissed him. That means you saw something in me that you-"  
  
"_Shh!_ Draco, if you ever say anything of that nature again, I swear I will make it so that _all_ sexual thoughts have completely distanced themselves from your mind." She smiled sweetly. "Understand?"  
  
"I promise never to say… things like that in front of other people," he said. Hermione knew that she would have to be satisfied for the time being.  
  
"Anyway, how do you know if I've ever kissed Harry?"  
  
"Because it was obvious to me that it was your first time." He meant that he knew he was her first kiss. "You haven't had much time to kiss anyone else since then."  
  
"I would say that two months is plenty of time, Draco Malfoy," she weighted her words with implications. "For all you know, I may have kissed every boy in our year, and some of the girls. I could have threatened them with hexes as well, quite easily."  
  
"Not the Slytherins," Draco countered dismissively. "Aside from that, I know that you are the opposite of promiscuous. And you're a terrible liar."  
  
"I'm fine at lying!" protested Hermione.  
  
"Hmm. You may have a point. I must just be so good at it myself that I can see through all the lies of others. Either that, or I know you too well."  
  
Hermione stopped letting him lead her, and they were the only couple standing still on the floor. "Do not for a minute think that you know me," she hissed at him. "You don't know a single thing about me."  
  
That was not true, of course. He knew how she kissed, and he knew all her looks. He now knew the reason behind the change in her appearance. His eyes told her that he knew her. "But we've been through this before, if you'll remember. The same old Hermione," he said the last part in a whisper. His hand came up, near her cheek, but she drew back.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"You've got an eyelash next to your nose," he told her. She let him take it off for her, but wanted to end their talk.  
  
"I need to step out of this crowd for a while. I'm feeling hot," she said to Draco. She saw the eyebrow he raised and clucked her tongue impatiently. "It has nothing to do with _that_. It's packed in here." Now that she thought about it, she was feeling warm. She fanned herself for a moment.  
  
Draco gestured toward the back of the hall. "I see Harry back there. Poor kid, he's stuck with Ginny and Blaise."  
  
"When did they get back?" Hermione wondered aloud. Draco answered with a grin.  
  
"Why don't you go relieve Potter of vomit duty, and I'll get you a glass of pumpkin juice." He started for the refreshment table.  
  
"It's really not necessary-"  
  
"Granger, just let me do something for you this one time. I promise I won't be polite ever again." She nodded to him with a smile, and lifted her skirt in her hand as she left the dance floor to find her friends.  
  
"So, fair lady," Blaise said to her with a suggestive grin, "how are you enjoying this ball which you have planned?"  
  
Ginny hit him in the shoulder. "Let her alone. She spent hours with the dullest of the dull to plan this for us. She deserves all the fun she can have after that."  
  
Hermione glanced between them. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Harry shook his head at the others. "They think that something is going on with you and Malfoy."  
  
Hermione stepped back in indignation. "_Excuse me?!_ Is that true, Blaise?"  
  
The dark-haired teen, who was dressed all in leather at that moment, adopted an innocent look. "Why would I think such a thing? Just because you were all over each other, dancing with your faces inches apart, is no reason for- what?" Hermione was glaring at him with certain hate, or so she hoped.  
  
Hermione looked away from the three who were laughing silently. "You've all gone mad," she muttered in annoyance.  
  
"Hermione, I never knew you cared what other people thought," Harry said.  
  
"I don't. I care what _you_ think."  
  
"Oh, thanks. We're not people."  
  
"You aren't _other_ people, Harry. You're my friends. It's all right to care what your friends think. Especially if what they think is wrong." She crossed her arms. It was just at that moment when Draco joined them with two cups of pumpkin juice. He sipped from one and handed the other to Hermione.  
  
"It's a battlefield over at the refreshment table," he remarked. "I may have poked some people in the eye fighting my way up there for your drink. But it all worked out in the end." He watched her over the rim of his glass while he sipped.  
  
Gritting her teeth, Hermione accepted the beverage. "Thank you," she nearly growled. Blaise was coughing conspicuously while Ginny and Harry distorted their mouths, trying to hide smiles. Hermione shot them all dark glowers, the darkest reserved for Blaise.  
  
It took the ball-goers a few minutes to notice that Dumbledore was standing patiently at the head of the staff table, which was the only one of the long tables still in its normal place. They quieted when they did notice, and soon he had the undivided attention of the students.  
  
"Thank you for your attention," the Headmaster smiled. "It is time to announce the winner of the costume contest. Before I do, however, let's have a hand for Miss Granger and Mister Goldstein, who worked very hard to plan this special occasion for their classmates." Applause followed, then died off. "And now for the costumes. The three honorable mentions are Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Janis Lepoint."  
  
The third runner-up was a fourth year, who was dressed as a pirate. She had fake scars and tattoos, an eye patch, very authentic pirate boots, and a hip holster for a fake gun. Hermione smiled toward the girl, who could not see it, being half a room away. Beyond that, she was distracted by the small jack-o-lantern figure that appeared before her. Hermione and Harry each received one as well. If you pressed on the top, it would say "Honorable mention, Hogwarts' Halloween costume contest."  
  
"And the winner of the contest," Dumbledore continued once the cheering for the runners-up had ceased, "Is Draco Malfoy. The judges found his costume to be the most… surprising." His mouth twitched, and his eye twinkled. "Mister Malfoy, please come and claim your prize."  
  
Draco made his way up to the front of the hall, holding his head high and walking gracefully. Many people were confused; they saw only Harry Potter, at first. Harry Potter did not walk that way, and Dumbledore had just called for Malfoy. When they realized exactly what they were looking at, murmurs of shock and amusement broke out. No one could quite fathom why Draco Malfoy was dressed as Harry Potter for Halloween.  
  
Hermione, Blaise, Ginny, and Harry all burst out laughing at the same moment. Draco looked deliberately at the four of them when he took his prize from Dumbledore. When they had calmed down later on, they would learn that he received a slightly larger jack-o-lantern and some Honeyduke's chocolate. While they were laughing, though, they were unaware of anything but their mirth.  
  
Hermione was wiping her eyes when Ron approached. He walked somewhat dejectedly, like he did when he felt guilty about something. He right up to her, nodding to Ginny briefly before speaking. He might be able to ignore his best friend, but not his sister.  
  
"I'm sorry I lost my temper, Hermione. I never have any right to yell at you. I can't help being upset about the whole situation, if you know what I mean." The last was said in an undertone, not needing further explanation.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Hermione responded as she wiped the last traces of laughter from her cheeks. She noted Ron's increased tension as Draco made his way toward the group. He sat with them at the small round table.  
  
For a while, some awkward conversation bounced among them. After a high point in discomfort, Ron said, "I wish they would have let us have alcohol tonight. Maybe I can get Fred or George to send me a bottle of Firewhiskey."  
  
Hermione looked up. "That sounds like it could be fun. If we pitch in some money, do you think they would send a bottle for each of us?" The others seemed to be surprised by this, and she knew why. But that would not stop her from speaking.  
  
Ron slammed his hand down on the table. The others brought their gaze to him in an instant, wondering what was coming. He looked around at them, then stood. "Hermione, I need to talk with you privately." He took hold of her arm and led her outside.  
  
"Ron, what is _wrong_ with you?" she wrenched her arm from his grip.  
  
"Me? What's wrong with you?" He started to pace. "I just told you I wanted to drink, and you said it sounded like fun. That's not the Hermione I know. You worked for six years to become Head Girl, someone who's supposed to be a role model for the younger students. What are you trying to do, just throw all your hard work away?"  
  
"I can't help it if I want to try new things," Hermione said. "And no matter what you may think, I will not shirk my duties. I can mix work with play, Ron, and you're no one to tell me what to do."  
  
"I'm not trying to give you orders, Hermione. I just want to help you."  
  
"I don't need any help! I've actually never been better, and if you knew anything about me, you would know that much."  
  
"What, are you saying I'm not a good friend?" Ron was looking at her with a combination of anger and desperation. She huffed at him.  
  
"Maybe. I can't deny that there have been times when you were wonderful, but lately you've been nothing but a prat, Ron. You won't even speak to Harry, but you keep telling me that you aren't mad at me. Well, I can't divide my time between you and him, even if it does mean I'd have to choose. It's too difficult, Ron. So please, either hate me or forgive him."  
  
"I can't do either, Hermione. I already explained why I can't accept that Malfoy has changed."  
  
"I wouldn't say 'change' is the right term, but you did explain. So, why aren't you as angry with me as you are with Harry? What makes my part any different?" Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Tell me now, or I _will_ make the choice. And you probably won't have too much trouble guessing whom I'll pick."  
  
Ron opened his mouth, but at first silence reigned. At last, he found his voice. "Even if I could hate you, Hermione, I wouldn't want to. You… I don't know what to say, really. I never wanted to tell you because I was afraid of what you would say. But now, I guess I just don't want to lose you. I love you, Hermione."  
  
"Ron…" She remembered what Ginny had said. She was not in love with Ron. They could both get on with their lives if she told him.  
  
He took her arms and looked her in the eye. "You know how I feel now. All I want is not to hear that you don't feel the same way. Please, Hermione. I think I know how you've always felt, as well. Just tell me, as I told you."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No, Ron." She stepped back a few feet, meeting his confused gaze. "I don't know how you got the idea that I felt more for you than just friendship. I don't; I never have. I care for you, Ron, but I don't love you."  
  
He looked like he had just been told that his entire family was dead. He would not look at her anymore. She reached out, trying to comfort him. "Ron, I'm sorry. Just…"  
  
He pulled away. "I can't be around you," he told her, his voice thin and choked. Hermione knew he was trying not to cry. Her arm dropped. Ron turned and went back into the castle. She followed slowly, knowing she would not find him when she entered.  
  
Instead of looking for Ron, she went back to the Great Hall to see what Harry and the rest were up to. They still sat at the table, laughing, unaware of what had just happened. "What was wrong with Weasley?" Draco asked.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Nothing. He just wanted to talk."  
  
"About…?" Harry pressed.  
  
"About me, to put it simply," Hermione said. Ginny seemed understand, but said nothing. "I don't think he's going to be coming back to the ball. He was a little upset."  
  
"He's too sensitive. You've got to be gentle with a boy like that," said Draco knowingly.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. He gave her a sorry-but-I-know-I'm-right look. She returned one that said mind-your-own-business-because-it-does-not-involve-you-at-all. His next look replied, I-think-I-am-more-involved-in-this-than-you-are-admitting. Before she could respond, Blaise spoke.  
  
"Forget the firewhiskey. If you want to drink, I've got a wide selection, that actually does include a bottle of Ogden's. It isn't full, but nearly. We could make a night of it."  
  
"You have a collection of alcohol in school?" Hermione repeated.  
  
"Well, yes. I promise you I've never been drunk or hung over in class, though. Oh, come on. Stop looking at me that way, Hermione. If you were in Slytherin, you'd be the same way."  
  
She grimaced across the table. "I highly doubt it."  
  
There was a bustling at the entrance as a group of unusual people entered. None of them looked like anyone from Hogwarts, but they were all in costumes, so Hermione was not exactly sure. Every one of them was dressed as a zombie, a person raised from the grave. Hermione had seen pictures of necromanced humans, and from what she could see the costumes were scarily accurate.  
  
Terry Boot, who was standing with his friends by the door, said to one of them, "What a costume, mate! You really do look dead."  
  
"Boot!" Snape, who was chaperoning, called as he fought toward them. Hermione's eyes narrowed at his warning. Draco's head snapped up and around. He appeared to understand that Snape knew something. "Stay back from the-"  
  
The zombie had limped toward Terry as Snape spoke, and grabbed him. With one swift movement, Terry's neck was broken, and he slid to the floor in unexpected death. Hermione realized that these strangers were not wearing costumes.  
  
Everyone backed away as quickly as they could, eager to escape the reach of the intruders. The teachers rushed forward. McGonagall stopped by Hermione. "Get all the students out of the Great Hall," she said. She then continued to rush, catching up with the others.  
  
Hermione climbed up onto the table. "_Sonorus!_" she declared. "Attention, everyone! You are all instructed to leave the Hall at once! Upper years, help the younger students! Return to your dorms, and stay there until you have been notified by a teacher to leave! Go now!"  
  
It was not until after the last of the students were on their way out that Hermione looked up to see how the professors were faring against the undead enemy. The majority of their spells up until that point had been cast to protect the students. "_Quietus!_" Hermione said, pointing her wand at herself. She jumped off the table.  
  
None of the professors' spells were hitting, though some of them were incredibly powerful. "They're protected," she whispered. "The spells won't affect them."  
  
Ron was approaching them. "Hermione! What are you still doing here?"  
  
"Potter, the sword!" Draco ordered, holding his hand out. Harry drew it and tossed it to Draco, who caught it by the hilt and charged forward.  
  
"Draco, no! Come back!" Hermione cried, beginning to chase after him. She was restrained by arms much stronger than hers, at the very least. Ron was holding her back. "Get off of me!"  
  
"I won't let you put yourself in that kind of danger, Hermione. Especially not for Malfoy. I'm taking you out of here." He tried to lead her out, but she fought him.  
  
"Where I am at this moment is not your decision to make, nor is it for you to determine for whom I will risk my life. Now let me go! Do it, or I'll make you!"  
  
"How? Are you going to cast a spell on me?" His voice was right in her ear.  
  
"Ron!" Harry's voice interrupted. "Stop this! Let Hermione go!"  
  
"If it is necessary," she said to Ron. "And it seems right now that it may be." She began to reach for her wand, but Ron pinned her arm to her side. "_Ron!_"  
  
"You're coming with me," he said. About fifty feet away, Draco lopped off the head of one of the zombies. It hit the floor limply. Hermione felt her feet slide on the stone. She began to struggle more violently, screaming at Ron. All at once, something hit them, and his grip loosened. Hermione was knocked off her feet.  
  
"Ow," she said. Hands helped her up, hands that she saw belonged to Harry and Ginny. She looked around as she brushed off her dress. Ron was on one knee, holding his jaw as though he had just been punched. Blaise stood over him with his wand drawn, glaring.  
  
"Blaise, don't," Ginny pleaded. With a severe look, Blaise covered the seven feet of floor to where the rest of them were standing.  
  
A shout from the behind made Hermione turn. When she did, one of the monsters gripped her by the throat. The strain to draw her breath increased as her feet slowly left the floor. Harry and Ginny's efforts to free her did nothing.  
  
Her brain started to loose its ability to function. Dimly, she knew that she had to get more oxygen. Her hands, not feeling like her own, feebly scratched at the arm holding her neck. She looked over the thing's shoulder, where Draco had just dispatched another of the loathsome bodies. He seemed to be getting larger. Hermione was sure that meant he was coming closer. Her vision swam.  
  
The head of the zombie came off abruptly, and the body fell. The hand grasping her was tugged off by someone else - she thought it was Draco - and she drew a deep breath. She nearly fell, but was caught.  
  
It seemed that all the zombies were defeated. It was the only logical conclusion, since a few of the teachers were hurrying toward them, and Draco threw the sword aside. It seemed to be his arms that were holding her up.  
  
"Miss Granger, are you all right?" She knew the calm, relaxing voice. It was Dumbledore.  
  
She nodded slowly. "I think - I -" She rubbed her neck a bit. A cough emerged, paining her lungs. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing." She looked up at Draco's worried eyes, and fainted.  
  
…TBC…


	10. Family Code

A/N: I know this chapter took forever, sorry. I really meant to update during the vacation. It took longer than I hadanticipated to finish writing the chapter. But at last I've gotten my applications out of the way, and I have time to write again. So I am here now with chapter 10 of The Negative Side. 

I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. I personally think it's one of my most creative story ideas. Last chapter was incredibly fun for me. This one is a bit more serious, but at least it's just as long, right?

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Family Code_

When Hermione at last regained consciousness, she wondered why it was so dark. She was sure that on normal occasions, she was able to distinguish shades of grey and black during the night. At last she reasoned that her eyes must be close, and attempted to open them.

That was her first mistake. As soon as the light registered, she became aware of the pain in her body. Her head was pounding excruciatingly, she could feel pains in both of her arms and her neck, and she thought she was having menstrual cramps as well. She groaned and gingerly brought her hands up to her head.

"Hermione, you're awake!" Harry's voice rang out. Hermione winced at the sound.

"Not so loud, please." She rubbed her eyes a bit, clearing her vision. She looked around and found herself in the hospital wing. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"About three hours," another voice answered. Harry turned, moving a couple of feet to the left, and Hermione was able to see Draco. He was carefully slipping his shirt on over the fresh bandages on his right shoulder.

"What happened?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, my shoulder?" Draco began to do up the buttons on his shirt. "It is so good to be back in my own clothes. No offense, Harry, but you need some fashion sense. I wonder if they make a potion for that."

"You are without a doubt the nastiest friend I have ever had," Harry jibed.

"Well, honesty is tough for some people to take. Those fragile, sensitive ones like you."

"I believe I just asked you a question, Draco Malfoy," Hermione cut in. If she let them continue, the friendly argument could go on for quite a while. "Answer it, will you?"

"Calm down, Hermione. You've been through a lot, we wouldn't want you to have a relapse."

Hermione gave him the most confused look she could muster. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. I'll just tell you before you take my head off. While I was fighting the corpses, one of them bit me. Because of all the decaying and rotting those guys tend to do, it was infected rather quickly. Madame Pomfrey applied a poultice to draw the infection out, but she didn't want to heal it before she was sure if it would return. Hence, bandages." Draco made a random gesture in the direction of his right side. He seemed to be unaffected by his injury, but Hermione noted that he moved his right arm very little. She could tell by his eyes that he saw her look. She shook her head slightly, assuring him that she would not let anyone know he was in pain.

"What about you, Hermione? Are you all right?" Harry asked her.

She nodded. "I feel fine. A bit of residual aching, but it's nothing the night's rest won't take care of." She started to sit up. As she did, she noticed that one of the beds had the curtains drawn. "Who's in there?" She pointed.

The others glanced that way. "Terry Boot," Draco told her quietly.

Hermione glanced between the curtains and her friends. She paused at the thought, not sure whether she truly considered Draco to be a friend. "You mean he didn't die?"

"No. They found him alive after the last of the zombies had been dispatched. Dumbledore mended his bones immediately, but there was much more damage than that. They don't think he's going to wake up any time soon," said Draco.

"Do you think we could get out of here before Madame Pomfrey notices that I'm awake? I want to leave without dealing with her." She rose, but the others pushed her down to a sitting position again. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Hermione, but we aren't going to let you out before Madame Pomfrey says it's okay. You could have been killed by that thing, you know." Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for their concern.

"Thanks, Harry. It's good to know that you want to subject me to-"

Just before she could get out the insult to the school nurse's amazing work, Madame Pomfrey emerged from Terry Boot's curtains with a sigh. She wasted no time inspecting the rest of her infirmary. She noticed Hermione right away. "Ah, you're awake at last." She bustled over and whipped out her wand. Hermione eyed Harry and Draco in annoyance as she was inspected. Madame Pomfrey disappeared into her office after hmmfing a bit.

"If she makes me stay here tonight, I have every intention of blaming the two of you," Hermione told her companions.

"Drink this," Hermione heard as a potion was shoved into her face. It smelled a bit like pumpkin juice, but it tasted more like gasoline. She gagged at first, but Madame Pomfrey was watching her carefully. She held her nose and finished the potion. The flask was taken away immediately. Hermione coughed at the aftertaste, which reminded her of tar and grapes.

As Hermione finished resisting vomitous urges, Madame Pomfrey's wand finished its second examination. With a huff, the woman said, "I am not sure I want to let you go, but you appear all right. It's up to you, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked incredulously at her. "Well, I feel fine. I'd like to sleep in my bed tonight."

Madame Pomfrey nodded reluctantly. "And Mr. Malfoy, please remember to return in three days so I can check that bite. If the infection stays away, I can heal it without any fuss." Draco acknowledged her order. The nurse bustled away to attend to Terry Boot once again.

Harry and Draco helped Hermione down from the hospital bed, despite her protests that she was capable of walking on her own, and guided her toward the door. Before they had gone three feet from the entrance, she stopped walking, looking over her shoulder. "Could you wait a bit?" she asked them. They let her go back inside, waiting at the door.

Against all that she knew to be proper, Hermione entered the curtains that hid Terry from the rest of the room. Madame Pomfrey was muttering to herself about possible cures. Hermione cleared her throat timidly. Madame Pomfrey spun in surprise to face her. "What are you doing in here? You know you aren't allowed. Please, let me get back to my work, Miss Granger."

Hermione was staring at Terry not quite listening. "Is he… will he recover?"

Madame Pomfrey looked at the ground. "I am not sure. I have never had these kinds of injuries before. Very few beings would dare to raise the dead. It is the highest offense in our society. But Mr. Boot will certainly not be helped by your standing here and staring, asking me questions which I am unable to answer. Please."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to know." Hermione left then, rejoining her friends in the hall. She did not speak to them or look at them as they walked. She could hear the conflicted noises they made as they tried to decide whether to ask her if something was wrong. Luckily, they were awful at making decisions.

"This is my stop," Draco said suddenly, gesturing down the hall. "I'll see you two tomorrow. Try to get some sleep, Hermione. You need it." He said nothing more as he headed for the Slytherin dorms.

Harry and Hermione continued up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. Now that they were alone, she could tell that he was closer to the dreaded question. The Fat Lady was asleep in her portrait, so Hermione turned to Harry before giving the password. "Harry, just don't ask," she told him. "Please. Let it be."

He did not agree right away, but only a moment passed before he nodded. "Inky marshmallows," Harry said loudly toward the portrait hole, but he was still looking at Hermione.

The Fat Lady started awake. "No need to shout, dearie. I'm not deaf," she mumbled. The portrait swung open, and they could hear snoring coming from the painting as they stepped through.

"I mean it," Hermione said.

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She took Harry's arm. "Everyone is allowed to have secrets, aren't they? You have them. I know you haven't told us everything you feel about Voldemort and all the trouble he has caused."

"I wouldn't say that 'trouble' is the right word, really-"

"But you know just what I mean. You have your secrets, Harry. Let me have mine."

"What are you saying, Hermione?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"There are things I do not want to talk about. This thing that has me upset right now is one of them, all right? The harder you push to find out, the less I want to tell you." She yawned. "Now, stop keeping me up. I want to get up early tomorrow and do some Transfiguration." She headed up the stairs, stifling another yawn.

She was not completely sure why she felt so guilty about the whole affair. She could not help that recovery from fainting was multiple times easier than recovery from a broken neck. She had thought that Terry was dead. He wouldn't have woken up from that, either. And there was no reason for her to have known before everyone else that the men who walked into the Great Hall were dead.

Yet Hermione continued to think that she should have known. Snape had figured it out, though a few seconds too late. He did have more experience with these things than she did, but there was something that nagged at her conscience. From what she could remember, she had felt right away a strange feeling about the walking corpses. It had not registered well until she had noticed Snape's reaction, but she had felt it. She should have paid more attention to her internal warning. It might have saved Terry. As it was, she was not sure he would make it through.

* * *

Draco had been working himself up to breaking the news for almost two days. He looked around at Hermione, Harry, and Blaise, wondering how they would take it when he told them what he knew. Blaise would understand more of what he was about to tell them, but he was known to remain silent for hours at a time when significantly surprised. The others might not be so good at containing their feelings. 

"Blaise, do you have_Theory of the Countercurse_ over there?" Hermione asked in a whispery tone. They were in the library, doing their research for Defense class. Since their alliance, the four of them had done most of their partner work together. Lupin had never told them not to, and they found that their trust of each other grew with every day they spent together.

Blaise began to rifle through the large pile of books, searching for the one Hermione wanted. Draco remained silent with the knowledge that he had set that book aside to look at next. He had more important things on his mind. "No, sorry," Blaise said.

"Harry, is it in your pile?" Hermione poked him. He shook his head. Hermione looked pointedly at Draco. "It isn't fair to hoard, you know."

He returned her gaze without blinking. They were all distracted from their work. It was a good bet that that moment was the best choice to begin filling them in. "I have something I need to tell you," he said before he could make up his mind to stop himself.

"Go ahead," Hermione prompted.

"It's very important." He wondered if they would take that statement the way he meant it, as a warning. "I know who it was that sent the zombies."

They all stared at him. In Blaise's face, Draco could read an understanding. The others seemed beyond shocked. Harry stuttered a little, but Hermione quickly spoke. "Who? How do you know?"

"It was Lucius," Draco said. This proclamation was met with silence, and he did not say anything more at first. Their unmoving eyes started to make him itch. "I assume all your voices are still working, and I will therefore ask one of you to speak."

It took a moment for any of them to respond. "That's a pretty heavy accusation," said Blaise knowingly. Draco was aware that what he said had nothing to do with the necromancy itself.

"It's also truth," Draco pointed out. Blaise looked like he was about to speak what was on his mind. "Don't say a word, Blaise." He shut up with a pouting look. Draco wanted to explain things to the others in his own order. It would be more complicated if Blaise began to talk about private family dealings.

Hermione glanced between them, catching onto their secret. She dismissed it for the moment, facing Draco directly and asking him, "How can you be sure?"

Prepared for this question, he took out a folded piece of parchment from his robe pocket. "This was sent to me the morning after the attack. It says 'How did you like my Halloween present?' and I think it's rather clear what that means." He handed it across the table.

"But how do you know that your father sent this?" Harry asked.

"It's his handwriting. How else?"

"Someone could have imitated-"

"No, Potter. They couldn't. You really need to do some research on Spells Everyone Knows But The Savior of Wizardkind. Stop making that face, I know you don't actually resent it. There is a spell that prevents any person who is not you from copying your handwriting. The people who use it are generally the most…"

"Skilled?" Blaise supplied.

"I was actually planning to go with paranoid, but that applies also," said Draco with a laugh. "Thank you, Blaise. The spell is a simple one in essence, but exceedingly difficult to perform. I would have done it myself, but I have not yet worked out the kinks."

"I have," Hermione said. The others looked at her in surprise. She shrugged. "What? I found it in a book during fourth year, worked on it for the entire summer and managed to cast it. I thought it would be worth trying, a little experiment, but it appears to be irrevocable."

"It is," Draco nodded. "It ends at the exact moment of the death of the person who cast the spell. Until then, your personal penmanship is completely safe. It was used often by people on special missions, under high risk of capture, or by people in high positions whose written word was obeyed by just about everyone. Now, it is not as widely known how to perform it."

"This is all fascinating," Blaise cut in. The sarcasm in his tone was clear to Draco, since Blaise would undoubtedly know all thisfor himself. "Of course, there is the matter at hand that still needs discussion."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I definitely want to talk about the fact that Lucius performed necromancy and set the dead men on our school during my party." She looked pointedly at Draco.

He started by shaking his finger at her. "Now, don't you go blaming me for anything. Especially after I saved your life," he said. She glared at him, most inappropriately, and sat back in her chair with her arms crossed. Harry put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly and gave Draco a withering glance.

"Fine," Hermione said shortly. "Talk."

Draco ignored the mixture of irritation and guilt that nagged at his mood. "I am almost certain that Lucius has found out something about my principles that I did not want him to know. I have not been as immaculate at covering my tracks of late. He must have noticed something about the way I act and realized that I am not working for him, as he has thought for my entire life. He's angry with me for that and wants to force me back under his rule."

"Understandable," Harry said, nodding slowly, "but does that really mean that the attack had anything to do with you?"

Blaise looked at the parchment that displayed Lucius's taunt, and answered. "It was a message."

"Correct. Slytherin two, Gryffindor zero."

"Two, how?" Harry shot back.

"Because I already have the entire thing figured out." He did not wait to continue. "I already know what he is capable of, I've seen it many times. He's had me watch tortures and interrogations before, generally the most brutal…but getting to the point, it's a display of force. Necromancy is not something for a less able wizard to attempt. Not only does it demonstrate how much power Lucius wields, but it reminds me how easily he can gain more. An army could rise from their graves and we would never know until they were too close to stop them. He kills often enough that there would be no trail of empty graves."

"Lucius would kill men in order to raise them, you mean?" Harry asked.

"I would not put it past him," Draco said with a shrug. "But the way I see it, I have two choices. I can sit around and worry about what else he might do, or I can be ready for the next strike."

"I think there is more to this than a simpleshow of power," Hermione added suddenly. Draco fought the urge to quiet her with his hand on her mouth. He knew the message ran deeper, but he had not planned on telling the others. "That is, if you don't mind the Gryffindors scoring a point."

"Please, go ahead." Draco made a gesture to indicate that she had the floor.

"Your father was taken to Azkaban and got out very shortly with bribes and arguments not incredibly convincing," Hermione began, uncrossing her arms. "He knows that he can find a way out of any situation regarding the law. You said you've been less careful; he's following your lead. He meant for you to find out what he did because he wants you to know what he can do to _you_."

"Thank you, Hermione. I had intended not to bother you three with that tidbit, but some people like to say the more the merrier. I, of course, have never held any regard for that phrase-"

"So you think so as well?" asked Hermione. Draco hesitated before nodding in agreement. "Why weren't you going to tell us?"

"None of you needed to know," Draco said simply.

"It's an important part of the message, Malfoy," Harry broke in. "Friends do not keep such important secrets."

"Perhaps you two Gryffindors are all slumber parties and group therapy, but Slytherins play it close to the chest. You've heard the saying 'Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead', haven't you?"

"I think it's excessively morbid," stated Hermione.

"It is morbid. That doesn't make it any less true," Draco responded. "And we are drifting from the point of this conversation. I want to warn you two, mainly because Blaise is a more cautious individual than either of you, that Lucius coming after you is not unthinkable. He likes to strike at the emotions before striking at the body. This attack was supposed to be for fear. I am not scared so easily."

"Really? Maybe he should bring you into the Forbidden Forest," Harry sniped.

"Calm down, Potter. You should not speak if you don't know what you're saying." Harry narrowed his eyes at this, knowing that he should read into what Draco had just told him. Draco smirked, challenging him to the task. Let him try to put his thoughts in enough order to realize that Draco had been eleven years old when Voldemort had scared him out of the forest. "We've already been in that piece of land this year. You don't remember the part where I saved your life? It wasn't fear that did it."

"I have a better question," Hermione said, briefly raising a hand to draw their attention. When she was sure all eyes were on her, she went on. "Why are you not telling someone about this?"

"What do you mean? I told the three of you, and I was under the impression that you counted as someone. Was I mistaken?"

"I mean authorities, Draco. Not the Ministry, if that's how you chose to interpret my suggestion. In the most blunt terms, I mean Dumbledore." She waited then for him to answer. No one else seemed inclined to say anything more.

"I will not. It is not done. Aside from that, what would Dumbledore do with the information? He already knows to be wary of any more attacks on the school. He would have to be an idiot if he did not. It would be pointless."

Hermione clucked her tongue at him. "He deserves to know, Draco, it's his school that was attacked."

"I had thought that it was our school as well," Draco answered. He knew that it would not steer her away from the explanation she wanted, but it did not hurt to try.

"Draco, I am asking this one thing. If it was you-"

"Malfoys do not sell out other Malfoys," said Draco abruptly. He exchanged a glance with Blaise, who understood immediately. "It's in our family code. Lucius may not be much of a father, but he is part of my blood. There are things you just do not do, Hermione. I will not tell anyone else, and neither will any of you. Oh, except the younger Weasley. I expect she'll know before the day is out."

"You have a family code?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Simple, straightforward guidelines which are generally enforced with crude punishments. Most of the oldest pureblood families have them, especially families predominantly Slytherin."

"I still don't like keeping this to ourselves," Hermione pouted.

"I said no." Draco stared her down. "That's the end of it. You will tell no one."

She nodded, unwilling to say more, and looked away. Draco extracted a quick spoken contract from the others before they both left within five minutes. This left Hermione and Draco alone.

"You are unbelievable, you know," she told him. "Somewhat baffling, actually."

"Baffling, eh? I was aiming for dangerously charming, but I'll take what I can get."

"I am talking about your loyalties. Instead of real morals you have these family guidelines, created by your evil ancestors, no doubt."

"My ancestors are not evil," protested Draco. Hermione rolled her eyes. "All right, maybe the majority of them were evil, but you can't talk about life as though it were as simple as good and evil. I was brought up on that code. As much as I dislike Lucius, hate him really, I still hold the code on a high level of respect. It is not so ridiculous, Hermione."

"Don't say my name," she snapped. After sitting a while in silence, she sighed. "I don't mean to be rude, or to disrespect your values. I simply have my own ideas of what is done or not done. I believe that if a person has the right to know a thing, then you tell them."

Draco peered at her troubled face. "You still haven't told them, have you?"

She smiled slightly. "It is not their right to know. It would make some things easier, but complicate others. Of course, it might be a good plan to tell Harry and Ginny before Ron forgives us and joins the party."

They both laughed a little. "I wouldn't mind if you told them," he said. "If you want to, you know. But if you want to keep it a secret, I will as well. I would not want what we did to cause problems."

She looked up incredulously. "You don't think it already has? Were you even _there_?"

"Well, there were no physical drawbacks, the world was not put into peril…problems, you say? I personally could not pick one out."

She clenched her jaw, her eyes flashing. "Don't you make me say it."

"Say what?"

"Emotional problems, Malfoy," she said a bit more loudly than she should have. She glanced about, watching for Madame Pince. "You know that you were the first boy I ever… I mean, well, you know."

"I certainly do. I was there, in answer to your previous question. But I still have one question for you. You and Krum, you never…"

"No," she answered quietly. "I was a bit young at the time."

Draco let the silence that next fell sit for a moment. "Is there nothing that will make you trust me?"

"I do trust you, Draco."

"No you don't. I know what trust looks like, and I know caution."

Another pause slipped into their conversation. "I do not believe there is, Draco. You have already broken my trust, and therefore you've lost it. No one who has done so has ever regained it before."

"I'll try my best."

Draco knew that if Hermione had found their silence completely uncomfortable, she would not have remained in the library with him.

…TBC…


	11. Hermione's Big Secret

A/N: I just realized that I haven't mentioned Crookshanks at all. Let's just write it off as Hermione being too busy with other things to pay copious amounts of attention to her cat. It would be silly to put him in now… 

I am sorry that it takes so long to update, but there are reasons. 1: I have less free time since I started working. 2: These chapters are so long that they take a while to write even when I do get around to it. 3: More reviews are a wonderful incentive to write more words more quickly. Reviews are kind of slow lately. Therefore, if you want me to update faster, then review!

This chapter is the last slow-moving, transitional chapter before some important bits of plot are added. Next chapter: Another note from Lucius, a centaur encounter. Doesn't that make you want to review this one?

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Hermione's Big Secret_

Harry and Draco both knew that Hermione had secrets. There were things she hid, covered up by simple, well-thought-out lies. It was the topic they each avoided equally every time they talked. Neither of them wanted to speculate too closely.

Harry had another reason for avoiding the subject. He would have hated to find out that Draco knew a secret of Hermione's of which he was unaware. He thought it unlikely, but with Hermione it was not wise to rule out any possibility.

"What do you think Hermione does out in the forest?" Draco asked suddenly.

Harry amended to himself, _We do talk about her sometimes_. He shrugged. "I don't know. I doubt that sitting here guessing will help us figure it out at all, though."

"All right. If you don't want to go into that, neither do I."

"Yes you do."

Draco sighed. "I want to know what she is doing, but I don't like fumbling in the dark."

Whenever they had a minute or so of conversation followed by silence, Harry started to fidget. He always felt that something had been left unsaid. It was true; there was much more to say. None of it related to an easily broached topic. Instead, they sat without speaking. On most occasions, one of them left, or brought up something like Quidditch. Both of them enjoyed long, in depth conversations about some small point of the sport. Tactics, since they were both Seekers, came up quite often.

This time, Harry did not want to talk about Quidditch. He had been doing some thinking ever since he found himself in one of the history books. Deciding to take the plunge, he asked, "What do you know about Godric's Hollow?"

Draco looked at him in surprise. "Not much," he said. He cleared his throat. "It's a hidden location, Unplottable, and completely surrounded by Muggle territory. Named for the founder, I think. That's about it."

"Do you know how to get there?"

The pause that followed the question was too long. "No, of course not."

"If you're my friend, tell me."

"We're friends now, eh? Admitting it, finally? Never thought you would."

"I don't have time for this, Malfoy."

"Of course you do. You're a student at Hogwarts, you have time for almost everything. Listen to me, Harry. I. Do. Not. Know. Anything. About. It."

"What have you been keeping from me about the night Voldemort killed my parents?" Harry hissed.

"Nothing! My father never talks about it, neither do any of the other Eaters when they visit him. It's not an experience they enjoyed, losing their leader. Lucius would never talk about his defeats in front of me."

"You have to know something. Tell me how I can find Godric's Hollow." Harry knew that he was being stubborn and demanding, but he did not care. The thought that Draco knew anything regarding his parents that he didn't was unbearable.

Draco leaned across the table, his eyes hard and unyielding. "I will not help you get into trouble. Especially the fatal kind."

Surprised by this unexpected admission of emotions, Harry began to laugh. He laughed heartily and very nearly mirthlessly. When he had enough breath to speak, he said, "I'm sorry. For a moment it sounded like you actually cared what happened to me. You know, a year ago you would have done anything possibly to get me into trouble."

Draco just shook his head. He went back to his research. Angrily, Harry grabbed the front cover and slammed the book closed. "Do not ignore me." The sentence spilled out, hardly registering in his mind, as he read the title. The Rise of The Dark Lord Voldemort. Harry stood motionless, having no idea what to do next.

"Do you know why we do this, Harry?" asked Draco.

"Do what?" His voice was hoarse and strained. He felt pricked behind his eyes.

"Fight like that. Do you know why? It's because we're used to taking out our unexpressed emotions on each other."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He was not in the mood for this. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"I'll get to the point quickly. It happens to be this; no matter what we go through, we will always fight. It's what connects this part of our lives to the part when we hated each other beyond words or reason. But even when we're fighting, we'll still be friends. I am your friend. You are my friend. Accept the fact."

"You are making far too much sense," said Harry, shaking his head.

"I do that sometimes." Draco was wearing a knowing grin. "Do you want to finish this assignment now, or tomorrow?"

"Let's just get it done." They took their seats, once again finding the appropriate pages of their texts. "Tell me again why we aren't doing this with Hermione and Blaise?"

"Because Blaise and Ginny have locked themselves in the Room of Requirement for the night," Draco replied without looking up.

"Oh, right."

* * *

"What do you want to do?" Blaise asked. Ginny just shrugged. She was not in the mood for any of their usual activities. She tried to think of what that left, but only drew a blank. Blaise guided her to sit next to him on the cloudlike overstuffed sofa. "Is something wrong, Ginny?" 

The plan had not been to bare her emotions, but they came pouring out against her orders the moment the last syllable left Blaise's mouth. "Ron is being such a prick, I could hex his broomstick into a million pieces and not feel bad about it." Scathing, Ginny thought rather proudly.

"He's still angry that you're 'associating with Slytherins'?"

"Not angry, Blaise. He's gone far past angry by this point. He won't even speak to me. I asked him today if he wanted to include anything in the letter I was writing to mum, and he just turned and walked away. Can you believe it? My own brother won't speak to me! It doesn't make any sense."

"I guess he's feeling betrayed," said Blaise.

"I know that. The problem is that I didn't betray anyone. Ron's too stubborn to realize that he's fighting his own side. He did the same thing in fourth year, his that is, when Harry got into the Triwizard Tournament. He thought he entered himself and that he was just refusing to tell Ron how he did it. He didn't talk to him at all until after the first task. And Hermione decided to keep Harry company because the rest of the school was angry with him- you should have seen him! Oh, he sulked for months about that, even after Harry and Ron had made up. It was quite funny, but I still felt bad for him."

"Why bother with that? He's a git and deserves no sympathy."

Ginny glared at Blaise. "I appreciate that you are agreeing with me, but if you insult anyone in my family again, your lips will not touch mine for a month."

"But then who will you make out with?" Blaise asked, a devilish smile creeping onto his face. Ginny found it incredibly attractive. A familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach occurred when she thought about it, but she refused to let on. She shrugged, for the second time in five minutes.

"I'm sure I'd find someone," she said nonchalantly. "I can be both convincing and seductive, as you know."

Blaise looked slightly worried at that. Ginny was happy to know that he wanted to be exclusive. Or perhaps he just wanted her to. Knowing Blaise, he would flirt with any girl in sight with the proper figure, but he would not take it beyond that. She almost smiled, but she was too distracted and upset to give in to the thoughts of her boyfriend.

"But that isn't the point," Ginny went on. "The point is I don't know why Ron is doing this. He's never turned his back on me before. He feels almost guilty for what happened to me during my first year."

"You mean when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and you were taken down there? Whatguilt would he have for that?"

Ginny remembered just then that she had not told Blaise all the details of that story. Confusion took her. She was sure that Draco knew the full story, though he had not been involved directly. She had felt safe assuming that Slytherins of the most influential and feared families would all know. This included Blaise. "You don't already know?"

"About Riddle's diary, you mean? Of course I do. You wrote in it, he possessed you, you opened the Chamber of Secrets, et cetera. What about it?"

Ginny looked at him in shock. "You confuse me no matter what you do, Blaise," she told him. "Itsounded like you didn't know."

"Forgive me. I did not mean to give you the impression that I was ignorant. Continue, though. Your brother feels guilty?"

_Should I? Oh, what the hell. Blaise won't tell anyone._ "You know that Lucius slipped me the diary when he and my dad were having a fistfight? Well, Ron noticed afterward that there was another book, one that he was sure had not been there before. He didn't say anything because…"

"Because he didn't expect it to be an evil diary?" Blaise supplied. Ginny nodded. "That's pretty harsh. He's right to feel guilty. This information changes everything. It was all his fault."

Ginny hit him in his chest. "He told me two summers ago, no one else knows about it, and no one else ever will. You understand me? It's bad enough that he's angry with me for being civil to you and Draco. If he ever found out that I told his biggest secret, he'd kill me."

Blaise chuckled. "What do you think he'll try when he finds out about us?"

"He probably already knows," Ginny said. "Everyone else does."

"Yes, but he's a Gryffindor. A member of the slowest house…"

"Hey, I'm a Gryffindor too," Ginny protested. "You are slowly losing your rights to go beyond first base."

"But you're the Slytherinest of Gryffindors I've ever seen. It's madly fetching," Blaise told her, his lips moving to her neck. Ginny was suddenly aware that Blaise was nearly on top of her.

"You've been using my distracted state as an opportunity to move in for the metaphorical kill, Blaise." He paused, looked into her eyes, and grinned. Ginny laughed slightly. "I expected no less."

"Of course." His mouth met hers, their lips molding to each other softly as they began to lose themselves in each other.

"And Slytherinest isn't a word," Ginny scolded as soon as her speaking apparatus was disengaged.

* * *

November was passing quickly, Hermione was pleased to notice. It was one of the least enjoyable months to exist, in her opinion. The winter chill began to set in, but there was very little snow to make it worthwhile. It always seemed to drag just a little longer than it had to. Anticipation for December and Christmas built to an unbearable tension, and Hermione became more irritable. This year, however, none of this happened. It had been uncharacteristically warm for the better part of the month, and looking up at the ceiling that morning, she predicted snow.

"What do you think this is?" Harry asked, bringing Hermione out of her musings. She looked around at her friends.

"What?"

"This letter. Who do you think it's from?" Harry held up the small package Hedwig had just delivered.

Hermione shrugged. "How would I know?"

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "You seem a little distracted," he said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just open the thing so you can stop wondering."

Ron was glaring between them and the Slytherins from the end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione rolled her eyes, but then followed half of his glare. She found herself staring at the Slytherin table, lost in an unwanted train of thought involving Draco's hands and lips.

Hermione was shaken from her reverie by a crumpling noise, the suspicious sound of parchment shoved hastily into a pocket. When she looked at Harry, he was digging into his breakfast with unmatched enthusiasm.

"Did you read the note?" she asked him.

He barely looked up. He nodded briefly. He tried to reply, but all that came out was a muffled, "Mmff thshhphh bllnngg mmshhr."

Hermione shook her head. "Fine, if you don't want to answer me," she said. Obviously Harry had something he wanted to hide. If there was one thing for which Harry had absolutely no talent, that was being devious. Normally Hermione found it to be endearing. At that moment, she found it disgusting.

"Hermione," Ginny said, somewhere to her left, "Will you help me with my Arithmancy assignment when you have some time?"

"We can do it right after breakfast if you want," Hermione answered. "It shouldn't take too long. How many problems?"

"Just two. Well, the assignment was for ten problems, but I figured out most of them. It's just these particular ones that I keep getting stuck on. I figure I could ask Blaise, but then I would never actually get it done."

Hermione looked askance at her younger friend. "I do not want you to _ever_ tell me exactly what that means."

Ginny laughed. "All right, I'll try. Listen, I'm finished here. Do you want to go to the library or the common room to work?"

"The library," replied Hermione automatically. They gathered their belongings, said goodbye to Harry, and started down the winding castle corridors to the library. No sooner were they clear of the Great Hall than Ginny confronted Hermione.

"I saw what you were staring at. I believe it has a name. It begins with a 'D' and ends with a '-raco Malfoy'." Hermione whipped her head to the side to see Ginny, peering intently at her. "Fess up."

"No." She flatly refused to tell Ginny her secret. "Forget it, because I'm not telling you."

By that time, they had reached the library. Hermione set her schoolbag down rather more heavily than she had intended. "Let me see the problems, Gin," she ordered. Ginnydug outher book and opened to the page where her scrap parchment was stuck into the text. Hermione sat and started to look over the problems. "These aren't really that hard, there's just a trick to them that you have to get first. And this one, number four, you did this part wrong. The answer's right, though, and I'm not sure how that could have happened. Come here and I'll show you how to do it."

"Hermione…"

"Does it have to do with Arithmancy?"

"Yes." Hermione looked up. "Well, no, it doesn't. It's important, though. It…"

"What is it? If you're going to tell me, please do so before I die of suspense. If not, let me help you with your homework." Ginny did not say anything, so Hermione turned back to the Arithmancy book. She had just opened her mouth when Ginny spoke.

"I saw you talking to Draco in the library," she said quickly.

Hermione paused, her quill poised over the paper. That was certainly not what she had expected Ginny to say. She chanced a look at her friend, and found that she was nervous. Ginny had a habit of biting her lip just after a difficult confession. "What are you talking about?" Hermione prompted, though she was sure she already knew.

"It was in October, some time before the Halloween Ball. I was looking for books, but I came across you two. You were talking about…something. I don't know what, it was rather confusing. It seemed like something was going on with the two of you."

Hermione placed her quill neatly beside the parchment and turned to face Ginny directly. "Do you want help with this homework or not?"

Ginny's eyebrows knit together in an apologetic expression. "Maybe we should do it later. Tomorrow, or something." She began to gather her things. "Or I could just do it myself. I'll get help from the professor during class.And I'm sorry for eavesdropping. I wasn't trying to."

"Ginny, I- never mind," Hermione finished, since Ginny was already disappearing from sight. Hermione pressed her fingers to her temples. "I wonder how many friends I can alienate in one day."

"Want to make an experiment of it?" a familiar voice asked from nearby. Hermione looked up to see Draco, and was completely unsurprised. He shrugged. "Or not. Just a suggestion."

"Did you want something?"

"So, she heard that, did she?"

Hermione was suddenly nervous. "How much did you hear of what we said?" Draco was the last person she wanted to know that she was staring at him. It would have terrible consequences if he found out.

"Just the last minute. From when Ginny said she saw us." He sat on the edge of the table. It was irritating that he could do something so ordinary and make it look so incredibly appealing. "I told you I heard something."

"Well, congratulations, Malfoy. You win the freakish sense ofaudition prize," she snapped, slinging her bag over her shoulder and preparing to leave in a huff.

"Aren't you working on your Defense assignment with Blaise in, oh, five minutes?" He asked before she could go more than a few steps.

Gritting her teeth, Hermione slowly, very calmly, returned to her previous seat. "I loathe you," she hissed.

She jumped a moment later, noticing that his face was so close to hers. His mouth was just beside her neck, and she desperately wanted it to move in and make contact. She turned away slightly, and Draco's lips moved close to her ear. "No you don't," he murmured.

Hermione turned to look at him. His eyes were inches from hers. It would take no effort to reach out and touch him. It actually took an enormous strength of will not to. He continued. "You don't loathe me. You want me."

"I think I would know if that were the case," she whispered, forcing annoyance into her voice.

He stood. "When you're ready to admit it to yourself, let me know. I want you around. I feel better when you're around."

"Well, thank you."

"I don't think you understand." She waited for him to explain. "I meant that I feel like _I_ am better. And I think it is so. For what would be brought out in me but the best part, because of you?"

Within seconds, he was gone. She did not even realize when he left, and she felt a strange sense of disappointment when she noticed. She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind, to push them down, but Draco continued to interrupt her thinking. She couldnot stand it.

Later than he should have, Blaise arrived. "What did you say to Ginny?" he asked. "I ran into her on the way, and she looked upset."

"I was trying to keep my own secrets, which are no business of yours, Blaise. I have as much right to them as anyone else. Now can we _please_ do the assignment?"

A few minutes passed in near silence. Then Blaise spoke those fatal words. "I saw you staring at Draco at breakfast."

"Oh my gods. Is it Drive Hermione Crazy Day? Someone please tell me, because it seems like it. Why were you even looking at me?"

"That isn't the point. I was just wondering why."

"How could you even be sure I was staring at him? How do you know I wasn't staring in that general direction, and he just happened to be in my line of sight?" She felt proud of herself for bringing up that point.

"I think your initial reaction makes it a little late for that line of reasoning," Blaise said matter-of-factly. "Come on, just tell me why. You can barely stand Draco."

Hermione looked at the ceiling hopelessly. She thought of how she and Draco used to stand, with their mouths pressed together, very nearly lost in each other, his hands wandering over her back…

"Are you _serious_?" Blaise blurted out, a bit louder than the library warranted. "You and he were a couple?"

_"What!"_ Hermione's head snapped back to its normal position. Then she realized, "Oh. Was I just speaking out loud?"

"You definitely were. When was this?"

"Only for a few months," Hermione told him resignedly. She had already told him the most important bit. She might as well fill in the rest. "He ended it during the summer. It was after that, when I began my self-improvement project."

"Wait. You mean that Draco was the reason behind this?" When he said 'this' he gestured to encompass her from head to toe, referring to her more stylish look. "_He_ was your bad relationship?"

"He wasn't the reason. He was just the catalyst. All the other things I told you were true. I was tired of just being plain old bookworm Granger. Draco was the event that set it off."

"If only he could hear you calling him an event," Blaise said wistfully. "He would die of pride. Wouldn't that be a sight. Oh, he'd come back a moment later, of course."

"Blaise," Hermione's tone had taken on a razor-sharp edge. "If you tell anyone about this, even Ginny, you will find yourself severely maimed by means of the flesh-eating plant _Vorari Carnis_."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her in amusement. "I don't think you would."

With measured movements, she took his robe in a fist and pulled him a little closer. "Not one word." She released him afterward, and resumed work on their assignment. She was thoroughly annoyed to hear Blaise stifling laughter through most of their time in the library.

"I think I'll go, and leave you to your hysterics," she said angrily. She exited as quickly as she possibly could.

What was it that had changed? She suddenly found herself thinking of Draco at the most inconvenient times. Most of these thoughts were less than appropriate, often causing her to blush. Because of this, Blaise now knew everything she wanted so badly to forget. Yet she did not feel as terrible about this as she should have. She felt relieved that someone else knew. But why?

It was because of what Draco had said to her that day. He wanted her to trust him again. That was what she had said. To trust him. He had not said that he wanted her to kiss him, but to trust him. You wanted friends to trust you, not pieces of ass. Some time ago, she would have written it off as some devious Slytherin plan. She could no longer do that. She knew Draco too well.

She could still convince herself to be suspicious of him, but she wondered.

Was it possible that he actually cared about her?

…TBC…

Good news! I found some leftover confetti from the days of NLE. If you want confetti, you must review. This time it's the last of the Jack Sparrow shaped confetti that appeared in the last chapter of Pirutes, which means you must review quickly! In short supply. Get it while you can.


	12. One Last Centaur

A/N: I'm back.I was so happy that is actually working onmy computer(!) that I decided to post the nextchapter! Because it took me so long, I will try to getthe next chapter up before the end of the month.I think that I should really get going on this story, because I'd like to finish posting it before the 6th book is released. (I've already ordered it on Amazon! Yay, can't wait!)It's probably going to become a semi-AU fic anyway, once it comes out, but I'd rather have that happen _after_ it's finished. 

In the meantime, I would like to ask you a question. I'm not plugging my own work, really. I just want to ask the people who are reading this whether you think I should continue with Ashamed (a fic not centered around any of J.K.'s characters), or just leave it. The best part was coming up, but I kind of want to use forthat idea an original fic, and it isn't my most popular story by a long shot. So just skim it, tell me if you think it should be finished, and I will be very grateful.

Chapter time!

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_One Last Centaur_

Over the years, Draco had perfected the difference between anticipation and fear. The reactions were often similar. Heightened blood pressure, quickness of breath and heartbeat, fidgety nervousness. Some people could not tell the difference by looking. Draco could.

Most of the students at Hogwarts were experiencing these symptoms two weeks before Christmas break. Draco could detect the brightness of eye and happiness beyond the normal level that went along with anticipation for a wonderful thing.

Draco himself would know this excitement several times each day, but his was accompanied by a clenching of the jaw and a swift glance to either side to be sure no one watched him. His arose from fear, since that morning.

_Draco,_ the letter began, _You will return to the manor during the December break. There are important matters which must be discussed. During this time, you will send no owls, and you will receive none. The Floo channel will be disconnected, and the Apparition wards will be in place. There is, of course, no reason to be alarmed. I tell you this because I have always given you fair warning on the state of things. There is no need to send a return owl; I already know what you will say._

His father never signed letters to him. He always knew without a signature who wrote those messages.

Hiding his feelings was something Draco did well. Even Blaise, with whom he had always been close, had trouble reading him. It was different now that he had started to spend time with Hermione Granger. She could read people better than almost anyone he knew. She would be able to see the tightness of worry in his face.

Hermione, being a kindhearted, sympathetic person, would ask him what was wrong. Hating to lie to her, Draco would tell her about the note. Then she would worry, and he did not want her to worry. She would want to help although she could do nothing. It would become even harder for him to keep his feelings in check.

He was not in love with her. He couldn't be; he knew himself too well to think that it might be so. He was incapable, as far as he knew, of loving. He could care, feel concern, laugh with someone, but he could not love.

His feelings for Hermione, however, were probably as close as he would ever get.

"Draco," the voice of a swiftly approaching Hermione spoke. She sat down next to him in their Arithmancy class. The professor was using the class to grade their last exam, and so they had the time free. They were supposed to be doing problems from their homework, but this professor was not as strict as some.

"Hello, Hermione," he said calmly. "How was Herbology?"

"It was fine. I want to ask you something."

"Ask." It was not exactly a command, but it sounded like one. Draco wondered if Hermione thought so.

"I've seen the way you've been acting today. Is something wrong?"

Draco glanced up to where Blaise was sitting, two desks ahead. He seemed engrossed in his work. He looked back to Hermione, and the worry on her face caused him to sigh. "It's nothing," he said at first. She would get it out of him in a minute, but he had to deny to save his reputation.

It took only another look from Hermione to get him to start talking. He took out the note from Lucius and passed it to her. "This came this morning," he told her. She read it quickly, and looked up at him in alarm. "Hermione, whatever you're thinking,_ no_."

"But, Draco, you can't just do what he tells you, you don't know what's going to happen."

"It's all right. I can handle anything that could come up."

"No one can handle dying, Draco."

"My father would not do that. He might be evil and heartless, but he would not personally endanger me."

Hermione looked confused. "Wouldn't he? I thought…" she trailed off.

"You thought what?" Draco returned scathingly, keeping his voice low. "That my cold defensiveness was a mechanism developed as the result of an abused childhood? I'm a Slytherin, Hermione. It's what we do. No, my father has never touched me."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. "Wait - you don't mean that literally, do you? That he's never touched you - at all?"

"No physical contact that I can remember."

"How can that be?"

"You don't know my father," said Draco simply. "If you did you would not be surprised."

Hermione did not say anything to this. Though he did not look at her, Draco knew that she was studying him thoughtfully. He became increasingly uncomfortable. "Not every family is as perfectly wholesome as yours, as you should know. You must have guessed that my father has no heart. Evil and heartless, like I said. I mean that. He doesn't see any purpose in intimacy. As far as I know, he barely looks at Narcissa."

Little by little, Hermione was learning more about him than anyone else knew. He would never allow himself to be tricked or pressured into letting slip so much of his life to another. Hermione … she had ways of making him want to tell her everything. Soon enough, there would be nothing left to tell. She would have information to use against him as no one ever had before.

But she would not do that. She was Hermione. Gryffindor, kindhearted, trustworthy, loving, understanding, intelligent Hermione.

"That must be terrible," she said, her voice quiet. She glanced ahead, where Blaise was sitting. Draco knew what her next question would be.

"Blaise knows some of what I have told you, but not all."

"That wasn't fair, Draco."

The abruptness, but more so the randomness, caused a drop of confusion to muddle his normally clear head. "What?

"You know nothing about my family. No family is perfect. Mine is far from it."

Draco looked at her, intrigued. "Do you want to tell me?"

Her eyes contained a hint of a glare when they turned toward him. "Only if you tell me why you broke up with me." Her voice was low and slightly harsh. He shook his head slightly, noting with annoyance that his forehead creased. She sniffed and began to scratch out a solution.

"What if…" Draco began. Hermione did not respond. He took a breath and forced the question out. "What if I promise that I will tell you as soon as I am ready, and that I will try to make that happen before we graduate?"

Hermione's reaction was slow and disconcertingly calculating. She looked at him, then at her textbook, then at her hands. She said carefully, "A few years ago, my parents decided to have a trial separation. Things were … going badly, and they thought it was better. After a few months, they got back together, but it hasn't been quite the same since then. We all get on fine, but…"

"You didn't expect they'd stay the same forever, did you? People change all the time. It's a part of life."

"I know that," she retorted sharply. "I was happy with how we were."

Nothing more needed to be said, and they both knew it. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Don't be. It doesn't matter all that much."

"Do the Wonder Boys know?" though Draco was friends with Harry, he could not refrain from the occasional jibe.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione answered, "No, they don't. There was no reason for me to tell them."

A lull in the conversation allowed Draco to finish a few of his homework problems. He realized suddenly that he had not yet assuaged her concerns. "Anyway, don't worry about Lucius. My seventeenth birthday has just passed. It probably has something to do with my inheritance. Malfoys receive their share of the estate once they come of age. We never bothered with that business of waiting until the current owner dies. It always seemed rather dreary and morbid to me."

"It is that, I suppose," Hermione relented. Her smile caused Draco's heart to lift, if only slightly. "If you say it's nothing to be worried about, then I won't worry. Much."

Though Draco was anything but convinced, he was glad she said it. He could claim ignorance if the subject ever came up again. She could not argue that she had given him any reason to think she was overly concerned.

Blaise came to his room the night before he boarded the Hogwarts Express to face what his father had in store at the mansion. He handed him an early Christmas present - a bottle of one of Blaise's own concoctions, called Butterwhiskey. It was one part butterbeer, two parts Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and one-half part chocolate liqueur. And, as Draco knew, it tasted much better than it sounded.

After boarding the Hogwarts Express the next morning, Draco locked his compartment before anyone could join him. He spent the trip staring out of the window, avoiding contact with anyone on the train who might talk to him. Talking was not on his to-do list that day, unless it was absolutely necessary. Even the witch with the food cart passed by when he did not open the door for her. He took a few swigs of Butterwhiskey, but he could not have made himself eat. Despite his self-assurance that he was safe in his own house, Draco was as nervous as he had ever been. To be cut off from the entire world for the entire Christmas break…

Needless to say, he was not looking forward to his stay at Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Hermione found the school to be emptier than usual with Draco gone. She hid it well, though Blaise kept giving her pointed looks. She pointedly ignored him. 

After a whole lot of time spent with Harry, Ginny, and Blaise, Hermione found herself alone, at last, with the dark-haired Slytherin boy in the Great Hall. She knew he would try to force a confession out of her. She resolved not to say anything he could not already know.

"You miss him, don't you?"

Hermione looked up from _Hogwarts, A History_. Blaise smirked in a Dracoesque manner. She sighed. "So?" she responded.

He shrugged. "I wonder what he would say if he knew…"

"I guess you will just have to continue to wonder," Hermione said, her tone warning. Blaise nearly laughed. She glared at him and returned to her book. She was reading about the unused classrooms. Some of them had never been used, but there was a time when not a room in the whole castle went empty. Color sketches of every classroom the way they had been hundreds of years ago filled the pages. They were fascinating; Hermione could imagine herself in each and every one of them, taking notes, writing essays.

"I think he misses you as well," Blaise said abruptly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You both want the same thing. That's all I'm saying."

"What is all you're saying?" a new voice asked. Harry and Ginny had just returned from their raid of the library.

"Nothing," Blaise answered. "Just some stuff about the N.E.W.T.s that Hermione and I were discussing."

Hermione searched for the books that the two were to have brought with them. "No luck?" she asked. The pile of library books was either invisible or non-existent.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing on what you wanted. I think it must be only in books in the family's private collection." Hermione had asked them to find books with Malfoy family history in them. She frowned pensively. She wanted to know, but how could she get to the books?

"I hope you are not keeping secrets from me," Blaise said, pouting.

"Right, because as a Slytherin, _you_ would never do that," Ginny chided him.

"Oh, come on. You're Gryffindors, you are not allowed to have secrets."

"Blaise Zabini-"

"Relax, Hermione. I'm joking. But if you tell me what you are talking about, I might be able to help."

She glanced at the others before speaking. They both nodded encouragingly, just slight movements of their heads. "All right. I was thinking of something Draco said to me earlier. I want to read something about his family - he said he had a book. I think that it must be in his personal belongings, not the library's stock. It might be very helpful for me to know, but I have no idea how I would get it."

Blaise was smiling knowingly. Before anyone could ask what was so amusing, he said, "You're right, you know. Even if you knew the password to the Slytherin common room - which you probably do as Head Girl, I realize - it would be much more difficult for you to get to Draco's things. He places wards on his room, and even leaves them there during the summer. The thing is, he allows certain individuals to pass through them. There are only three that I know are allowed. One is Draco himself, and the second is Professor Snape. If he could not get into Draco's room, he might be suspicious."

"And the third?"

His smile widened. "Me. I've been friends with Draco for years. I mean real friends, not like Crabbe and Goyle. They're nothing more than allies. They happen to be too pathetically stupid to trust with anything important."

"Back to the point, Blaise. You can get it?"

"Of course."

This led to a chain of events ending with Hermione sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, reading a book on the Malfoy family history. Her finger traveled down the pages of the index in search of information on Lucius and Darla Malfoy.

She discovered all the information on their lives and deaths, and a bit about what happened to the estate after Lucius's brother took over. She saw the picture of Darla and Lucius, noting with shock the likenesses Draco had seen. Darla looked quite a bit like her, and Lucius looked exactly like Draco's father.

As meticulous as Hermione always was, she managed to find a page that seemed to be hidden underneath the picture of the couple. She wrote it off as accidental magic that revealed the page to her, but that fact was pushed aside by what was written there.

Darla was the only Muggleborn to ever be accepted into the Malfoy family. If any Malfoy married a Muggleborn, they were typically cast out of the family, much in the way that Blacks who displeased the family were removed from the tapestry. Darla, however, hid her origins because she had (somehow) fallen in love with Lucius Malfoy. She was able to convince him that she was born of two old magical lines, both of which had lived in Eastern Asia for generations. In reality, she was born just outside of London to a teacher and a priest. By the time her family was discovered to be Muggle, it was too late to send her away without sullying the reputation of the Malfoy name. That was in late 1657...

"Her lineage was discovered only months before the ball at which she died. And Lucius, the only attendant who was careful about his drink, was the only survivor." Though enraged by the mere thought that a person would be murdered because of their blood, Hermione remained clear-headed enough to piece together what had happened.

"What have you been up to, Hermione?" Ginny asked, just entering the common room. Apparently, she had spent the better part of the day with Blaise.

"I read in the Malfoy history book that Darla Malfoy was murdered by her husband because he found out that she was Muggleborn, and was trying to save his family's reputation before that information got out." Ginny did not look any happier about this than Hermione felt. "I wonder," murmured Hermione, "whether this was the warning Draco was giving me. He has to know all this. But why would he try to keep me from such a fate? It is as likely to happen as an affair between Professor Dumbledore and Pansy Parkinson."

"Ew!" Ginny exclaimed. Hermione admitted mentally that she was exaggerating, but still she felt confused.

"Did you say something about a warning, Hermione?"

"No, it was nothing. Just regular old Draco Malfoy behavior. Nothing important." Ginny's expression was skeptical. Hermione glanced at the clock, closed the book, and rose. "I'm going to go for a walk, I think."

"But it's almost dinner."

"I won't be long. Anyway, if I get lost and miss it, I can always go to the kitchen. The house elves seem to be amiable to me if I stay off the subject of their freedom." This caused them both to smile, though Hermione could not help thinking of it as slavery. "Tell Harry not to worry about me. You should distract him or something. Do you know what he's doing?"

"He and Blaise were talking about something. They're still in the Room of Requirement. I don't really know what is going on. Possibly they are talking about private, Voldemort-related things, which they will repeat to us later on. Whatever it is, it is the reason I am here, and not making out with my boyfriend." Hermione shook her head, though she understood. Kissing Draco had been a thrilling experience, when they had been … together.

Again, she shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. It was bad enough that Draco was almost always on her mind, without reminding herself of how he kissed. "I need to go," she said, and headed out. If Ginny responded, she did not hear.

The grounds were eerily empty. The blanket of snow was depressed with a line of huge footprints from the castle to Hagrid's cabin - obviously fresh, since it had snowed the night before. Otherwise, the sheath of white remained mostly unmarked. Hermione cast a few spells for warmth and dryness before making her routine venture into the forest.

For some reason, every sound alarmed her. She held her wand in hand, deciding to be prepared for anything that came her way. Nothing did, however, and she had relaxed by the time she reached Erik's small clearing.

Her apprehension grew when she heard the voices. Erik never talked to himself. He did murmur at times, when she approached and they had not yet said hello, or during conversations when a subject came up that he was unwilling to discuss with her. But he never talked plainly to himself. Therefore, there had to be someone else in the clearing. It comforted her only a little that both voices sounded civil, even friendly.

Nervously, Hermione walked toward them. She saw Erik first, mainly because she wanted to. Next, she noticed the centaur who was his companion. She almost ran the other way, but they both turned toward her before she could move.

"Hermione Granger," the centaur spoke. "How surprising. What are you doing here?"

"Firenze?" Hermione said in answer.

"She is here for me, Firenze. She has been helping me. She knows of my predicament, and is attempting to lift the binding spell and let me leave. She brings me blood, and has also given me a potion that allows me to withstand the sun. Were it not for Hermione, I would most likely be dust by now." Erik smiled warmly, and Hermione returned a smile of her own.

"I am surprised that any student would be so amicable with a vampire, but it _would_ be Miss Granger to do so," Firenze said. "How are you?"

"I am all right," Hermione replied, handing two containers of blood to Erik, who took them gratefully. "Of course, there will always be something going on, but I am as well as I could be."

"I am glad to hear it," the centaur said.

"As am I," Erik told her. "You have not been to see me for a while."

"I am sorry, Erik. School is quite busy just before vacation. I hope you have not gone hungry because I could not get away."

"I've been able to catch a few small animals. Enough to keep my stomach reluctantly complacent," he said wryly. "I do miss your company, though. Firenze and I knew each other about forty years ago, during a year when Couteau took up with a young lady. He killed her eventually, and found me again. I did not return here afterward until that time when that bastard sucker put this spell on me." Erik had told Hermione a while ago that "sucker" was an insult among vampires. To drink blood was to be a real vampire. To be called a sucker was theequivalent of a human calling another a whore.

"I found Erik here only two days go. I have been away from the forest until four nights back, when I knew that I must return," Firenze added.

"But why?" asked Hermione. "I would think that you would try to stay away, because of the other centaurs. I thought they were angry with you."

"No doubt they still are, but they have left the forest. Less than one moon past, they fled. I felt it, and knew that I had to come back."

"For what?" Hermione prompted.

"To guard the innocent ones, as once we did." Firenze's countenance was set in a grim determination, on top of the sad, experienced look most centaurs possessed. "The others are gone because they fear what has come, and will again. Strange men have entered this forest, killing a certain number of us. They wear dark robes and masks. I know they are searching for something. When they find it, none of us will be safe."

Hermione shivered, feeling her mind scramble to make sense of everything. There was a clue in Firenze's words somewhere, but at that moment she could not find it. She looked up at the sky, long since dark and sprinkled with stars and clouds.

"I may have missed dinner already," she commented. "I should head back in. The others will wonder where I've gone."

Erik thanked her again, warning her to be careful. Firenze offered to escort her, but she declined with a thank-you and an assurance that she would be fine. She was; she encountered nothing between the clearing and the castle, but her nerves caused her to jump when a twig broke under her own foot.

She peeked inthe Great Hall, but it was empty. Dinner had been cleared away. She decided to go directly to the kitchens, obliging her complaining stomach. She passed the Room of Requirement on the way to the painting of the fruit bowl, and Harry and Blaise came stumbling out.

"Hermineee!" Harry exclaimed, spotting her. "Where've you been?"

Something about him was not right. "Outside, taking a walk. What about you?"

"Oh, me n' Blaise were just in there," he pointed vaguely in the direction of the Room of Requirement, "discussing some… stuff. Yeah." He hiccupped, then burped, and laughed. Blaise had not said anything. Hermione turned to look at him, but discovered that he was already gone. "So where were you, Herm?" Harry asked again.

Realization hit Hermione, and her eyes widened. "You're drunk," she accused, pulling him along the corridor.

"No! I'm not _drunk_. A diddle tipsy, maybe…"

"What did he give you?"

"Who?"

_"Blaise!"_

"Oh, him. Nothing much. I had some Firewhiskey, but only a tiny cup." Harry held up two fingers, emphasizing his words. "Tiny."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Had she not felt compelled to speak, she would have gritted her teeth. "I can't believe Blaise would do that. I had no idea he could be so irresponsible! If I could get my hands on him right now, he would be sorry. He'd certainly be searching for a Time-Turner then."

She dragged Harry into the kitchen as she went. The house elves greeted them happily. Dobby came flying into Harry, and Harry wobbled and fell to the floor upon impact. "Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter! And Hermione Granger too, of course."

"Thanks Dobby. I need some food, since I missed dinner. But Harry needs something else." She bent down and spoke quietly to him. "Harry is intoxicated. I don't know exactly what to do to take care of that, but I do not want him to be like this anymore. He'll thank you later on," she assured Dobby. Dobby said that he knew exactly what to do. He made Harry stand up and led him to a different part of the kitchen.

Hermione sat eating her dinner, a plate of steak and kidney pie, which she had never liked all that much. She thought about Blaise and what she would like to do to him, about Harry and why he would drink, and about what Firenze had told her.

Suddenly, Harry came stalking up to her, looking quite scathingly angry. "Hermione, what the bloody fuck did you do that for!"

"I don't believe I have ever heard you use such language, Harry," she said.

"Just answer the damn question, Hermione! Why did you do that?"

Of course, she knew exactly what he meant. "_Think_, Harry! What if you had run into a teacher? What if someone else had seen you? Drinking is not allowed! You could get into serious trouble! I would expect no less from Blaise, but you should know better!"

"_You_ said before that trying a drink for Christmas sounded like fun," Harry pointed out.

"I was joking, Harry!" Hermione lied. She had been partially serious at the time, but for the purpose of this conversation, she had to lie. "I would never drink at school, if I was going to at all."

Harry shrugged and glared at the floor.

"It is not healthy, Harry. So many things can go wrong when you're drunk, and you could have prevented it by staying sober. You know that."

"Yes! I know all about the dangers of alcohol. But maybe you should think before you try to control everyone else's life, eh? I wanted to forget my pain for just one night. There's no other way to do it. Next time, let me have my moment's peace, and leave me the bloody hell alone!"

Harry stomped out of the kitchen. Hermione felt miserable, but maintained that she had done the right thing.

…TBC…

Heehee, a diddle tipsy. Woohoo, review!


	13. If Lucius Finds Out

A/N: I thank everyone who has reviewed so far. I appreciate it a lot because I'm getting much positive feedback, for one of my most original fanfic plots. I enjoy people enjoying my writing. Yeah, thanks. And I love Erik, too, reviewer. 

I know I said before the end of April, but that did not end up working, so I opted for as soon as possible. That ended up being now, so here you are. Stop complaining. Please.

The newest chapter is a Draconetwork!Chapter- all Draco Malfoy, all the time! I know you've been dying to know what happens to him during the vacation. Or, not dying, but wanting to know at any rate. Now you get to find out.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_If Lucius Finds Out_

Draco awoke on Christmas morning with no joy in his heart, or in his house. His father had ceased to celebrate Christmas in the wrapping-paper-and-decorations sense a few years before. That meant that the rest of the household had as well. Draco suspected that Lucius celebrated Christmas by torturing some anonymous Muggleborn or disgraced "blood-traitor", which meant that the rest of the household turned away and said nothing. It disturbed him, but he was not even sure that it was true.

He planned for a quite lonely, uneventful Christmas. He knew that his father intended to have their purposeful, important discussion that night, but he also knew that it would be quite lonely and uneventful. His father spoke, he listened, he signed a paper… that was the way it usually went. Nothing about that excited him the least bit.

He decided that he would eat a real breakfast on Christmas, which he would probably pay for by having no appetite for lunch. However, he requested that the house elf Stubby bring a tray of lavish breakfast foods to his room, which the elf did with genuine enthusiasm. Draco was much more pleasant than Lucius or Narcissa, especially when dealing with house elves. Stubby was generally in charge of serving Draco when he was home.

Having not dressed for breakfast, or bothered notice what had been unpacked, Draco surveyed his wardrobe and bureau. He was shocked to find a small package, covered by plain gold paper, sitting on top of his bureau.

"Stubby," he called, though he knew the elf was right there, clearing away his leavings.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where did this come from?" he asked.

"Why, from Master's luggage, sir. Did Master not put it there?" the elf responded nervously. Though Draco was the best of all the Masters and Mistress, Stubby still might get into trouble.

"No. It's all right, though. Don't worry about it, just finish with that stuff." Draco forgot about the house elf as he picked up the unexpected gift for inspection. There was no card attached, but he ignored all the warnings he had ever heard of "if it is not labeled, it must be considered to be a trap from an enemy" and ripped the paper eagerly. He had more true friends than ever, making it more likely to be a real gift.

As it turned out, it was a real gift - and a simple one, unlike anything else he owned. He opened the box to find a small, flat pendant, with a stylized representation of an angel with a sword. It looked like someone one might buy in a museum gift shop. It was not even attached to a chain.

After a bit of inspection, he found that there was a message written on the inside of the wrapping paper: _Draco, I am not even sure why I bought this. I wasn't planning to get you anything for Christmas, but I saw this pendant and felt that I should give it to you. You don't have to wear it or even keep it. It was nothing but an impulse. Hermione._

Quite a flattering impulse. Draco closed the box and placed it in the top drawer of his bureau. He could find a suitable chain later in the day, or at least after he had put on some clothes.

He was just pulling on a shirt when someone knocked on his door. This was an unusual occurrence in itself. Lucius would send for him, and never came to his room, if he wanted a word. Narcissa barely had contact with him at all. House elves came to his room mostly when he called them, and so rarely knocked. Therefore, he was slightly perplexed as he asked, "Who's there?"

"Narcissa. I would like a word," came the answer.

Despite the surprise that might have numbed him a bit, Draco knew better than to keep his mother waiting. He opened the door for her immediately, to be confused beyond anything he had imagined. Narcissa stood before his room, an amiable smile on her face. More stunning still, the smile was genuine.

"Did you want something?" Draco prompted, not wanting to subject himself to such an awkward situation anylonger than necessary.

"Yes, Draco. I would like you to have tea with me this afternoon. Two-thirty, in my personal sitting room. I hope you do not already have plans?" she said jokingly.

His mother had come to his room, smiled, and made a joke all in the space of a minute. Draco shook his spinning head in answer.

"Good. I will expect you on time, then," she said, and turned to leave. Before she had gone a few steps, she looked over her shoulder and added, "Oh- and don't tell Lucius."

"Of course," said Draco. Once she had turned a corner, he closed the door slowly. Any sudden movement, even if it came from him, might startle him at that moment. _Why must my world continue to shatter?_

A diligent, ten-minute search rewarded Draco with a thin, finely crafted silver chain. He removed the pendant from its hiding place in his bureau and strung it on the chain. He examined it for a moment before slipping it under his shirt. It was a tasteful pendant, but of course he would expect no less from Hermione Granger.

Now that he had a gift from her, he felt almost guilty that he had not bought her anything for Christmas. This holiday was celebrated so thinly by his family that it had not even crossed his mind. Maybe he could overspend for her birthday to make up for it. He made a mental note to ask Harry whether Hermione's birthday was coming up.

Until tea, he had very little to do. He started on the three-foot potions essay Snape had assigned for the vacation. He liked Snape, really, but three feet on the uses of bat wings could be called nothing but overkill.

Two thirty was neither slow nor fast in coming. Time passed normally, though at times it seemed slower due to frequent glances at the clock. Draco was nervous, but only because he had no idea what to expect. Narcissa had suddenly become unpredictable, and he could not decide whether that was good or bad. He mentally compromised that he would know that by the end of their meeting. However, that would not be for another few hours.

As time wore on, and noon passed with Draco deciding not to eat, he was shocked by his feelings. Normally he would have been most unaware of them, but certain interactions had changed that. He was too used to having friends around; in his mansion, with no one but Stubby for company, he was incredibly lonely. He even missed Harry Potter, though he would have denied it as though his life depended on it if anyone had asked. He was friends with Harry, by this time, but he did not have to admit that he cared.

Blaise had always been his friend, since long before Hogwarts. He realized that he missed him more than he usually would, now that they were part of such a close group. Not being able to send letters was not helping. Draco acknowledged that he probably was not missing much where Blaise was concerned, since he would be spending as much time as possible with Ginny Weasley.

It was Hermione's absence that bothered him the most. Even if she did not fully trust him, she did share with him some of her deepest secrets - such as her parents' separation. No one else knew, so she had said. That confidence made him feel better about their relationship. It gave him reason to hope she might actually come around and admit she wanted him again.

But did he really want that? The last time he had started to feel close, he had cut and run. Of course, it was only the initial reaction, before he really had time to consider the options. Still, it was not completely unthinkable that he would do the same thing again.

When two thirty came at last, Hermione was driven from his mind by the curiosity toward his mother. This audience with Narcissa would be, to say the least, interesting. Without quite realizing where he was, Draco found himself knocking at the door to his mother's private sitting room.

"Come in," he heard, and opened the door with a discreet deep breath.

Narcissa sat on an immaculate leather sofa, wearing a lovely set of purple robes. She gestured for him to sit, which he did somewhat warily. He knew that she was trying to put him at ease, but that only caused him to be more tense. She smiled while he took his tea.

"I do not mean to be rude," Draco said, since she had not spoken, "but you have never asked to talk with me privately. What is this about?"

"I do not suppose you would believe that I wanted to see my son at some point during his stay?" she asked. His expression evoked a sigh from her. "I did not think so. Though you will find this hard to believe, that was part of the reason."

"Really?" Draco blurted out, before scolding himself. _Malfoys do not blurt._

"Yes. I admit that there is a more pressing matter, but it has been so long since the two of us have had a moment. I do not even remember the last time I hugged you." Draco only stared. He did not know how to react. "When you were a child, I spent every hour with you. I used to sing to you, when you were just born. Then you started to grow older, and your father ordered that all emotional ties be avoided. He did not want you to become the kind of person who would be concerned with others. So I stopped mothering you. That broke my heart, but I did it."

"Why?"

"For the same reasons you do as Lucius tells you, I suppose. It is a bit different for me, though. I am not even sure that I could survive the world without wealth, whereas I am certain that you could. You have other means of living, but I do not. I have no real friends."

Draco felt instantly saddened for Narcissa. "You have no friends?"

"No. The only thing that has kept me from breaking through the years has been you. My son." She reached out a hand to touch his cheek. "You have become so handsome. You were the most beautiful child, and I had hoped you would not turn out to be an average man. My hopes have been met. I can be glad for that, if nothing else."

How is it possible that a moment of tenderness could cancel out fifteen years of coldness? Draco did not know, but that is what happened. The connection that mothers share with their sons blazed back into life - back, because he knew it must have been there before. In the instant when she touched his cheek, he finally knew love.

Remembering that she had brought him there for a reason, he cleared his throat and said, "I am happy to know this, more than you can imagine. But I do believe there was something else you wanted to tell me."

Narcissa sat back, adopting an eerily somber look. "Your father has asked to see you tonight, and he is going to sign over your share of the estate, the remainder of which you will inherit when Lucius dies. I wanted to speak with you before that happened. This is something that I feel you should know."

"What is it?" Draco prompted, worried that someone was using a spell to eavesdrop on them.

"You do not know very much about me, Draco. Death Eaters tend to leave you alone if you never speak out against them and are married to one. I fit those qualifications, but I never became a Death Eater myself. I bear no marks, like those who gave their will up for power, wealth, or fear."

"I never agreed with these beliefs. Why does it make any difference what kind of blood one has, as long as the magic is there? It is the magic, not the blood, that makes us witches and wizards. I have often wondered how this kind of belief originates, and how twisted one's mind has to be in order to truly agree with them."

Draco nodded. "I know exactly what you're talking about."

"I know how dangerous it would be for me to openly oppose Voldemort. I live amongst his followers; everyone I know is an Eater. I have my own way of fighting them. Part of that is through you. I wanted to make sure you did not follow Lucius's ideals. He wanted to send you to Durmstrang, but I knew that if you could be under the supervision of Albus Dumbledore, you would turn out right. I had hoped that you would become friends with Harry Potter, but that plan did not go so well. I am glad that Blaise ended up siding with you, to give you an ally."

"This is quite surprising," Draco said, tilting his head to one side. He should have guessed it. There was something about her eyes every time Lucius mentioned the Dark Lord at table. Something disapproving and depressed.

"You must be careful, Draco. Lucius does nothing without a reason. Most of his actions are to benefit himself, and the rest are to benefit Voldemort. He will have other aspects of this plan of which you will not be aware until it is too late, if you displease either of them. Because you cannot truly know their plan, you must create your own. You must be cautious and tell only the people you trust most, if anyone." Narcissa sounded worried, and well she might. They both lived in a dangerous situation.

Obeying his impulses, Draco reached over and hugged his mother. He felt her arms go around him, and a sense of fulfillment gripped him. That feeling, at least the memory of it, would stay with him for the rest of his life. "Thank you," he said.

As they pulled out of the hug, Narcissa grasped his upper arm. Her gaze went directly to his neck. "I do not remember you wearing any jewelry."

Draco stiffened momentarily, but relented after a moment and drew the pendant from within his shirt. His mother took it in her hand and appraised it. She looked into his eyes when she had finished. "A gift?" she inquired. Draco nodded. "I assume the person who gave it to you is someone you consider to be special."

"More or less," Draco answered, not wanting to be too obvious.

His mother smiled, an action that warmed Draco's heart even more. "Who is she?"

Draco glanced about, suddenly nervous. He felt he could trust his mother - she would not lie to him about so many important things at once - but no one else. "Are you sure it is safe?"

"This room has been spelled against eavesdropping for years," she said. "Tell me."

Within seconds, Draco discovered himself eager to tell Narcissa about Hermione. He left out a few details for the sake of time, but included her blood origins. Narcissa seemed open to everything he said. "I am happy that you have found someone, even if you are not together at the moment. Do I have to warn you to be careful again?"

"No, I know what it would mean if Lucius finds out about this," said Draco with a slight growl. His father seemed to ruin every good thing…

"You may already know why I have called this meeting," Lucius began. "However, I will tell you, for the sake of clarity of purpose."

"Good idea," said Draco.

"Of course it is. Now, I have here," Lucius rested his hand on the table beside him, "a magical contract, which you will sign. It details the terms under which you will take over your portion of the estate. I assume you will read it before you sign."

"Yes, if you have no objections." Draco knew that his father would not deny him the right of reading his own contract. Lucius knew that Draco would sign the contract no matter what was on it. It was more beneficial to Draco to know the exact contents of the binding statement. He gently snatched the parchment his father handed to him and began to read.

As he perused the lengthy contract, Lucius spoke of matters in which he was certain that his son was interested. "Lord Voldemort is still considering whether changing the minimal age to be inducted into his ranks is the best option. Some think that such young people are nothing but children, and should not be granted such a privilege until they have shown that they can handle it. It was adversely pointed out that certain individuals of this age classification have already proven themselves, and that it would be useful to include such individuals within the inner circle. Not too many, of course, lest teachers grow suspicious, but enough to be effective."

Draco emitted a sound which indicated that he was listening. Anything more might have been taken as an interruption. Lucius nodded in approval.

"I believe that the most genius of all the Dark Lord's recent plans is the idea to change the Dark Mark." At that, Draco glanced up. He had heard the rumor, but details had been concealed. This information could be vital for those with whom he had recently begun to fight. "Only the Dark Lord himself knows where the idea originated, but the credit will rightfully go to him regardless."

Lucius leaned forward, more menacing than Draco had ever seen him. "When the appropriate adjustments have been made, only those who have a Mark will be able to see it on others. That will make it much more difficult for outsiders to identify us. Those who have the old version of the Mark will have the alterations done on it."

The threatening look in Lucius's eyes told Draco that if this information left that room, he would pay for it. Not that that would stop him. He turned his gray eyes back to the contract, continuing his reading. He did not want this meeting to last all night.

Startled, he nearly dropped the contract. Draco met his father's eyes. "In the event of my death, all of my estate goes to the head of the _Parkinson family_?" he exclaimed in shock.

"Yes," replied Lucius, devoid of emotion. "They are the most reliable of all the people to be considered." Draco could not deny that his father was right - for his purposes, at least. It was not as if one could leave anything to Voldemort in a will. The Ministry would never allow that.

Sighing, Draco finished reading. None of it mattered. Once he was clear of the manor, he had his own plan to change the contract. This new contract would suit his own preferences. He hoped that he would be able to keep his actions hidden from his father until the right time came to reveal them.

Lucius passed a quill his way. Blank-faced, Draco accepted it and signed at the bottom. He was now in possession of sixty million galleons. That was the sum of his inheritance, excluding properties and investments.

Lucius took the contract and banished it to some safe drawer. He leaned back in his chair after he had put away his wand. Draco wanted to leave, but he could not do so until Lucius had given his permission. It was clear that he intended no such thing until he was finished with what he wanted to say.

"I have been meaning to talk with you about a certain matter that has us concerned," said Lucius. The moment he said "us," Draco knew that he had reason to worry. He waited for Lucius to continue.

"I want you to tell me whether you believe Blaise Zabini to be loyal to our cause. There have been some reports that he has been seen with Harry Potter and his friends."

Draco's heart seemed to flip over. If Lucius was hearing about Blaise, then he must have heard rumors about Draco as well. "As far as I know, the only reason he spends time with them is because of Defense class. Professor Lupin has assigned us study partners for the year, and a lot of our assignments are done with them. Slytherins and Gryffindors have class together, so there were bound to be some mixtures."

The eyes across from his narrowed. "But you still think that he supports the Dark Lord."

As ridiculous as the action was, Draco had to force himself not to swallow as thousands of worries sped through his mind. "Absolutely. Why would he not?"

Silence followed this. Lucius waved a hand in dismissal. Not wishing to seem too eager, Draco controlled every step he took until he reached the door. Before he left, though, Lucius spoke again. "Make no mistake, Draco, if I find that you are lying to me, Blaise will not be the only one in trouble."

Slowly, Draco turned his head to look at Lucius. The man sat, coolly as though they were discussing a casual dinner party, staring at him. At that moment, Draco knew that Lucius, in fact, had heard of his meetings with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

"Yes, sir," he muttered, and left as quickly as his legs would carry him. His bedroom was the only sure refuge that he had access to at that time. Once there, he lied down and attempted to sleep. His many new concerns kept him up, tossing in his bed, tangling his legs in the sheets, for the entire night.

The whole day after Christmas, Draco slept. He woke in the middle of the day, but had no desire to get out of bed. Letting himself drift off to sleep, he ignored the strange presence of a pale-haired, kindly countenanced woman sitting on the edge of his mattress.

…TBC…

Review please, if you're a nice person. Or even if you're not nice. Just review.


	14. The Room Beneath The Cellar

A/N: This chapter is a little later than I would have liked, but I did pretty well with finishing it... I hope to get the next chapter out very soon. I've given up on finished before book 6 comes out, but hopefullypeople will still want to read itanyway.

Thanks to the people who are reviewing. I don't feel so compelled to thank the ones who do not review… a simple "This is what I liked about this chapter" would be great. Please, if you find this story to be entertaining, or good in any way, leave some type of comment. Constructive criticism is something I never see, so if you have anything (aside from typos, many of them are screw-ups) then review me.

A chapter to move the plot along. Draco returns from the manor, Blaise receives a shock, and Ron appears once again. The reason why this is a Draco/Herm fic is approaching quite quickly: the faster I get a bundle of reviews, the faster we'll get to it!

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_The Room Beneath The Cellar_

Students were streaming into Hogwarts at the end of Christmas break, returning with stories and sometimes gifts for their friends. Some small groups gathered in the Great Hall to wait. Among these were Harry, Hermione, Blaise, and Ginny.

They knew that Draco was due to return that day, but none of them mentioned him. Each one pretended they were only waiting for lunchtime, because they had all somehow woken early that morning and had breakfast before everyone else. It had been at least four hours since then.

Hermione wondered what he had done with the pendant. She doubted he would have thrown it away- not after the way he had been acting toward her. But she did not think he would wear it, either.

If she did see him wearing it, that would mean some confusion on her part.

"Why are we still sitting here? Hermione, you always spend all your free moments in the library," Harry said.

Instead of answering, she glared at him. She did not want to tell them that the thought of seeing Draco after the recent separation made her heart and head feel light. They would know, if she did, before _she _even knew what she truly felt for him.

Harry leaned into the table, folding his arms. "I was only asking."

Hermione smiled, "Sorry. I suppose I just didn't get enough sleep last night." This was a lie, but she really did not care. A noise from beside her caught her attention, and she growled at Ginny and Blaise, "What are you two laughing about?"

They exchanged amused looks and replied, "Nothing."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned to the book she had brought with her, which detailed the myths surrounding the wizard Merlin. They were incredibly interesting; one even suggested that Merlin had once had a love affair with the Lady of the Lake. Furthermore, the book never mentioned outright that any of the myths were true, but some were blatantly denied, as there was often proof to the contrary. The myth of the Lady of the Lake was not denied.

Absorbed in reading, she did not notice anything going on around her until the door opened suddenly, as though a great force was behind it. It slammed against the wall, startling Hermione. She looked up to see a very small girl running into the Great Hall- too small to have slammed the doors open like that. The inconsistency led logically to accidental magic.

At first Hermione took the girl for a first year. She did not recognize her, and it was natural that a seventh year student, even the Head Girl, would not know every eleven-year-old kid at Hogwarts. However, Hermione soon discovered that she was mistaken.

The girl, whose dark hair reached almost to her waist, glanced around the room, and then her gaze locked on something. Hermione followed it… right to Blaise Zabini. The girl started running again, directly into Blaise, who held her by the shoulders as he spoke to her.

"Bianca, what are you doing here? Is mother or father with you?" Hermione assumed, from this remark, that Bianca was his sister. She shook her head, and Hermione could see that her eyes were wide with fright. "What happened, Bianca?"

The girl did not seem able to answer. Blaise looked worriedly at the others. "You should take her to Dumbledore," Hermione told him.

Blaise nodded. "Good idea. But first, I have to know what is going on." He turned back to the girl. "Bianca, did something happen to you? Why did you come here?" He stopped suddenly, seeming to realize something.

"Did someone hurt you, Bianca?" Blaise asked in a whisper.

The girl nodded.

"Who?"

She said only, "_He_ did."

Blaise seemed to understand this better than his friends. He inhaled sharply. "I definitely need to go to Dumbledore," he said. "Come on, Bianca. I know someone who can help."

He started to walk, but Bianca did not move. She held her arms up wordlessly. Blaise gathered her in his arms and carried her from the Great Hall. Needing to find something to look at, Hermione tore her eyes away from the doors through which they had left. Her gaze fell on Ron, but she did not look for long. He was the last person she wanted to think about. He could provide neither answers nor comfort.

Instead, Hermione turned to Harry and Ginny. "I didn't know Blaise had a sister. He's never mentioned her."

"He does," Ginny said, sounding assured. "She's either eight or nine years old, I can't really remember. I think nine, because he did mention something about her starting at Hogwarts in two years."

"I wonder what happened?" Harry voiced what they were all thinking.

None of them could guess. They sat in silence, trying to banish disturbing images from their minds. Distracted in this way, they made it quite easy for Draco to approach them unnoticed. Reflecting on this later, Hermione could not decide whether that would please or annoy him.

"Where's Blaise?" was the first thing he said to them.

Harry was the first to look up. He shrugged, then went back to staring at the table. Ginny did not respond at all, and appeared deep in thought. Hermione, at last, faced Draco and gave him a real answer.

"Blaise is in Dumbledore's office, I believe," she told him. "He's not in trouble, or anything. His sister arrived a little while ago."

"Bianca? What is she doing here?" Draco seemed as surprised as Blaise had been.

Hermione glanced at the other two, who remained staring in other directions. "We don't know exactly. All we know is that someone hurt her. Blaise knows who, I think, from his reaction, but he didn't tell us. He was very disturbed, but it may just have been out of concern for his sister. I don't know how much it has to do with the offending party."

"Offending party?" Draco repeated.

"Well, what else am I supposed to call him? I don't know his actual name," Hermione retorted snappishly.

"Him?" asked Draco.

"Oh, yes. I got that from Bianca's part of the conversation. She said exactly two words. It was all very quick and confusing, and personally I'm hoping that Blaise will tell us what is going on later."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, causing a slight shiver in Hermione's spine. She berated herself for it. "I have to talk to him," he said. Hermione instantly became worried upon hearing his tone. "If you see him… never mind, I'll find him myself a bit later on."

"Draco, are you all right?"

"For the moment, yes. Listen, Hermione, I'd love to explain this to you, but I have to talk with Blaise first. It's an important matter, and Blaise really has to be the first to know. But I do have one thing I wanted to tell you privately," he added.

"What is that?" she asked, leaning toward him ever so slightly.

Draco closed the gap and said in her ear, "Thank you."

For some reason, Hermione understood right away. Her eyes instantly went to his neck, where she saw a silver chain peeking from beneath his shirt. She smiled. "You're welcome," she answered, blushing. "I didn't think you would be wearing it."

"I need to go," Draco said, as an alternative to responding. He was as good as his word; in another moment, he had left.

"What was that all about?" Ginny murmured. She looked at the doors to the Great Hall. "And _where_ is Blaise?" Following Draco's lead, she removed herself from the Hall. In a very short time, Harry had gone as well, and Hermione found herself alone.

Her first thought was to visit Erik, though she had just been to see him a few days before. She was sure that he would not mind the company… she had almost decided to go when she saw Anthony Goldstein bearing down upon her. She sighed, but forced a smile on her face with which to greet him. Her duty was likely to distract her from the present problems stirring in her mind.

* * *

It occurred to Draco to check the infirmary for Blaise, since he was unlikely to leave Bianca, and odds were that she had been sent there. Sure enough, he found Blaise standing angrily outside the door. 

"What's happening?" he asked, causing Blaise to spin toward him. He looked relieved to see Draco, but still quite upset.

"The old bat won't let me come in while she's running tests on Bianca," he muttered, sounding murderous. "I swear, if I'm not told, then I'm going to do something destructive."

"What do you know?"

"They were trying to find out if I was still loyal to their cause," Blaise said simply. Draco needed no more information than that.

"Then you are aware," he said. "Blaise, Lucius knows something is going on. If he manages to find concrete proof that we're not on their side, I have no doubt you and I are both going to be tortured and killed."

Blaise's eyes widened. For a second, he forgot his sister's plight. "What are we going to do, then?"

An hour later, Blaise and Draco were sitting in the Slytherin common room while Bianca slept in the infirmary. Blaise had admitted that she would be safe there while she was asleep, and it would be more convenient to have her be somewhere else for the moment. Draco's eagle owl had been sent on a mission to find Ginny, and the two Slytherins were about to carry out their plan.

"Are you sure about this?" Blaise asked, and though Draco knew what he meant, he decided to use it as a start to their public conversation.

"Blaise, you worry too much. They don't suspect, do they? No, of course not. Do you know why?"

"No, Draco, why?" Blaise prompted. He looked a tad peeved about not having received an answer, but Draco could not appear to care right at that moment.

"Because the heroes are always so eager to trust. They want to believe that we can change. It's in their nature to help and except everyone, even their enemies, if we ask." Draco seemed quite proud of himself. While this was not the case with him and Blaise, this fact was generally believed about heroes.

"You called them heroes," Blaise pointed out.

"Only in the disgusting Muggle fantasy sort of way," Draco amended, and Blaise nodded.

"Well, it does seem to be working. There is that."

"Mmm. Voldemort will be proud. Oh, and our parents."

It did not take long for the story to spread. Draco and Blaise were involved in some kind of plan to get into the Boy Who Lived's inner circle. The Slytherins were most excited about this, and they could not stop talking about it, but they were not stupid enough to let any of the Gryffindors hear. Or so they thought.

Draco went down to the kitchens to order dinner for ten sent to his room. The house elves were very accommodating - predictably. Dobby seemed very happy to see him, which was surprising, since he had been traumatized by working forthe Malfoyfamily.

He had reached the stairs leading to the dungeons, and was planning to descend them. However, another idea was had by Ron Weasley, who came at him from just ahead. Typical Gryffindor move: a Slytherin would have come from behind.

"I've heard about what you're doing. And Slytherins call themselves subtle," Weasley began bluntly.

"Well, more so than Gryffindors, if nothing else," Draco returned, sneering the old sneer. He couldn't help it. Weasley grated on his nerves. "For your information, the rest of Slytherin house might have been given the wrong impression for a reason."

"You mean you aren't pretending to be Hermione and Harry's friend just to get close to Harry? You aren't reporting everything you can back to your big boss You-Know-Who?"

That "You-Know-Who" business was really a sad thing. Slytherins laughed at everyone who ever said it. "Forgot all about your sister, did you?" was all Draco said.

Weasley would not be misdirected. He took a few steps closer, which was just a little disconcerting, since he was taller than Draco by more than just a few inches. People often talked about how tall Weasley was. It was much more noticeable when he stood a foot from you.

"This could be considered invasion of personal space, Weasley."

"Do you love her, Malfoy?"

"What?" The conversation took an interesting and unexpected turn.

"Hermione. Do you love her?"

Draco remained silent. Malfoys did not discuss emotions, especially not with anyone who might use it against them.

"I'm giving you this one warning. If you hurt Hermione, I'll be waiting for you. She doesn't love me, but that doesn't mean I don't care for her. I do. If you would make her happy, then she should be with you. But if you break her heart, or set her up, Azkaban will hold no meaning for me."

"That would have been threatening, Weasley, were it not for the sickeningly good-hearted noble I-will-give-up-the-woman-I-love-if-that-is-what-she-wants Gryffindor attitude underlying the entire thing." That was a lie. It _was_ sickening and Gryffindor and noble, but still threatening. Draco believed that Weasley really would forget about laws if he did anything to Hermione.

"You would do the same if you were ever in love," Weasley said.

"Don't count on it," Draco answered, but he secretly almost agreed. Slytherins and Gryffindors were almost complete opposites, but love was not concerned with things like Houses. After a minute of a Glare-of-Certain-Doom, Ronald Weasley walked in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Shaking his head, Draco continued on his way. "Arvadek," he said to the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. He hated that password and wondered why Snape had chosen it to begin with. So did Blaise, as he had said about thirty times.

"I just had a nice, civilized talk with your girlfriend's older brother," he said to Blaise, who had been waiting in Draco's room. It was the most private place that existed in the castle, and far less suspicious than a bunch of people suddenly coming out of a wall. This was what tended to happen when they met in the Room of Requirement.

"What did he say?" asked Blaise casually.

"He threatened me, in simplest terms. He's worried about my intentions, you know?"

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "I wonder why."

"You know, your sarcasm is unappreciated, Blaise."

"Don't be absurd. Every Slytherin appreciates sarcasm."

"Well, okay, it's _appreciated_, but it was unnecessary."

The two of them carried on a conversation made entirely of one-liners for a while, until a knock sounded at the door. "They're here, I guess," Blaise said.

* * *

Ginny sat next to Hermione at her table in the library. Without prelude, she told her, "Draco wants us to meet him in his room during dinner. He said he would have food there for us." 

"In his room?" Hermione asked. Ginny nodded. "Why?"

"It doesn't say. It seems very urgent, though, it's not like this kind of thing happens that often."

Hermione sighed. She hated situations like this; being in Draco's room, talking quietly with him… "Does Harry know yet?"

"I was on my way to tell him now. I think he's on the Quidditch pitch, though Merlin only knows why. It's freezing out."

"Well, you know Harry," responded Hermione simply.

"Don't we all," Ginny said. "Time to brave the snow, I guess. See you in the Slytherin dorms." This last sentence was spoken very softly.

"Why must Draco and Fate torment me?" Hermione asked herself before packing up her books and exiting the library. There was only a little more than an hour before dinner, and she had just decided that she needed to get cleaned up. She ignored the part of her mind that was accusing her of putting on a show for a boy.

"I am not," she protested. "I just feel like having a shower and smelling nice. There really isn't anything wrong with that."

_Are you convinced yet?_

"Shut up," she said, and then took her own advice. She would seem either crazy or foolish to anyone with whom she crossed paths if she kept talking to herself.

Five minutes after dinner had started in the Great Hall, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione approached the dungeon entrance to the Slytherin dorms, with Ginny leading. Apparently, Blaise had taken her there before.

"Arvadek," she said to a section of the wall. Also apparently, he kept her informed of the passwords. Hermione asked Ginny whether Blaise knew the password to the Gryffindor dorms. The answer she received was a shrug.

"Ginny, you aren't supposed to give out passwords to people from other houses," berated Hermione.

Harry held a finger to his lips. "Quiet. If there are any other Slytherins in here, we don't want them to know we're invading their House."

"Why didn't you bring the Marauder's Map with you, then?" Hermione snapped.

"Because I lent it to Blaise last week and he hasn't given it back yet. I should get that back today…"

Just like that, they were before a very elegant wooden door. Ginny knocked after peering down the hallway in both directions. It took only a moment for the door to open, and they stepped in to find Draco and Blaise waiting.

"The food will be here shortly," Draco said, gesturing for them to find seats.

"Oh, good," replied Hermione. "Because you know, that's what we were most concerned about, the food."

"I know I was," Harry said with a grin. Hermione shot him a look, and he grimaced toward her. "Well, I'm hungry."

"Can we begin now?" Hermione asked impatiently.

Draco nodded. "Fine. We've called you here to explain a few things."

"First, we decided to let you in on our plan, just so you won't be too confused," Blaise said.

"Lucius has been hearing rumors about us, Blaise and me, that is, and it's quite clear what our fathers will do if they discover our true intentions. To keep this from happening, Blaise and I decided to stage a private discussion in the common room."

"It is not the most likely thing for a Slytherin to do - discussing secret plans where others can hear - unless they want someone else to know," Blaise interjected.

"Right," Draco continued. "From what they know of us, the Slytherins will probably just think we're bragging and write it off as true. Aside from that, they will also be sure to stay out of our way if they think we have direct orders from Voldemort."

Hermione considered this for a moment. "So, what impression are you giving these poor, unwitting Slytherins?"

"We could take offense to that," said Blaise.

"But you won't," returned Hermione.

"We basically told them that we're pretending to… reform, I guess, to get close to Harry. It's a fairly simple plan, but I doubt most Slytherins could carry it out. Something so overt and direct would be beyond most of them. That's why they'll believe that Blaise and I were specially selected for this mission," Draco explained.

"And your friend Ron heard about it," Blaise added. "He thought it was true."

"Well, you can't really blame him," said Ginny. Blaise shrugged and blew her a kiss. Hermione was shocked that they had not yet snogged each other since the Gryffindorsarrived.

"Basically, you've told the other Slytherins that you're still on their side, and that you have to act like you aren't whenever you're within view of us?" Harry asked.

"Actually, it would be more convincing for us to act as part of your side whenever we're outside the Slytherin common room," Draco told them. "Slytherins are very thorough with our plans."

"That's perfect!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione and Ginny looked at him in slight confusion, while Blaise and Draco sat back with proud smirks. "Slytherins won't be suspicious of your actions, and the others will get used to you being - well, not evil."

"It does make sense," Hermione said. She gave Draco a smile, though she was still annoyed. She hated him. _No you don't…_

"Oh, the food's here!" Ginny said suddenly.

"Thank god!" Hermione whispered. She saw Draco's head turn in her direction, but she ignored him as much as she could. They all gathered around the sizeable tray and heaped their plates with supper.

"There are two more things I want to know," Hermione said once they had settled with the food. "I think you mean to explain them, but I'll tell you the subjects of interest anyway. One is what Lucius said to you, Draco. What he told you when you were at home. The other is what Blaise's sister is doing here."

"You're right, Hermione," Blaise answered. "Those were the other things we planned to tell you. However, we're more interested in the food right now. Can you wait a few minutes?"

Draco laughed at Hermione's glare. Her heart fluttered. She rarely heard a real laugh from him, and the novelty made it enticing. The way the corners of his eyes acquired subtle laugh lines was incredibly becoming.

She was sure they had all seen her stare, so she looked at her food instead. "Is there some joke we're missing, Draco?"

As an alternative to answering, Draco dove into the rest of the information session. "Lucius had some very interesting things to tell me. One of these things was in the contract, by signing which I came into my part of the family fortune."

"How big, exactly, is that part?" Hermione wondered.

"Sixty million galleons cash, not including properties," Draco said matter-of-factly.

Hermione knew that her slack-jawed expression would do nothing for her reputation. Luckily for her, both Ginny and Harry looked similar. Draco continued.

"I'll inherit the rest when Lucius and Mother both die. Of course, the most interesting part of this contract is who gets my money if _I_ die. This lucky person happens to be the head of the Parkinson family." Hermione felt shock and horror all at once, as though she had just been told that Draco killed puppies during the break. "Don't worry too much about it, though. I'll make legal changes of my own. I can do that now, since it's my money. It's kind of like changing a will."

"It's exactly like changing a will," Ginny pointed out.

"Yes, correct. But anyway, There is something more important, which surprised me quite a bit. Lucius told me what Voldemort is planning to do to the Dark Mark."

The others leaned in collectively. It would have been humorous if the topic of conversation had been a bit less serious.

"The plan that someone or other devised is to alter the spell," said Draco, "that places the Mark on your arm. Only those with the Mark on their own arm will be able to see it."

"At all?"

"Yes, Potter, at all."

In the silence that followed, a thought occurred to Harry. "Wait, I thought you said before that Lucius knew about your… betrayal, I guess. Why is this such a surprise now?"

"I never said he knew, Genius Potter. I said he suspected, and he still suspects. The only difference is that now he has said so directly," Draco answered. Hermione thought this explained things quite well. "His subtlety seems to be decreasing with every conversation we have. Maybe you Gryffindors are rubbing off on him through me."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Sarcastic jokes, the signal for the next topic."

They all looked to Blaise. "What?" he asked.

"Blaise," chided Ginny, "you know what you're supposed to tell us."

He sighed. Tilting his head, he caused some of his dark hair to fall in front of his eyes. He did not bother to brush it away. "Bianca was…" He took a deep breath. Hermione saw a tear roll down his cheek, and understood why he wanted his hair to cover his eyes. "Our father tortured her, along with a few other Death Eaters. They were trying to find out if I was still loyal to them."

"So Lucius is not the only one who has been hearing rumors," Draco put in, giving Blaise a second's respite.

"Yeah, it seems almost everyone's been talking. And Bianca, aside from being my younger sister and very dear to me, is a seer. They thought she would know, if anyone did, and they could get it out of her."

"Did they?" Harry prompted as tactfully as he could.

"As far as I can tell, she didn't. Dumbledore decided that he would bring his Pensieve out, and he and I went into the memory. She doesn't remember if she told them. All we got was her being grabbed and brought to the room beneath the cellar, then being tortured and- and screaming… she kept calling out my name."

Blaise turned and rested his head on Ginny's shoulder. She had moved next to him as soon as he began to explain, and now had her arms around him. He was shaking uncontrollably.

"I must look decidedly un-Slytherin right now," he laughed through tears.

"Oh, Blaise, don't worry about that. We won't tell anyone we saw you display emotion, especially in an appropriate situation," Hermione told him. Interestingly enough, she said this with complete sincerity. He smiled appreciatively, but she could still only see the bottom half of his face. She reasoned that his eyes must still be leaking.

"Maybe we should get out of here," Harry suggested. "If we have to sneak out once all the Slytherins are back from dinner, it will be just a little more difficult."

Draco caught Hermione's eyes. She could see that he was having a time of holding back his emotions. A strange feeling came over her as she realized that she must know him better than anyone, except for himself, and possibly Blaise. She could read emotion in his face or in his voice, whereas most would miss it.

She gave him a look that she hoped he would understand. Meet-me-in-the-Room-of-Requirement-if-you-would-like-to-talk, it said. To her surprise, he sent her a look of his own, which seemed to be saying I'll-be-there-at-nine.

And Hermione, who was very familiar with Draco and his mannerisms, was shocked by the emotions he vented while they sat in the hidden room for the entire night, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.

…TBC…


	15. In The Mirror

A/N: Reviews came pretty quickly this time, which made me kind of happy.I finished this chapter as quickly as I could, the last part took me a few days to get around to finishing it. I'm very happy that the story has gotten to the part where it's moving along and I can get most of it done by the time Half Blood Prince comes out. So I'm rereading OTP... What? Get on with the story? Oh, right.

This chapter has a few important plotpoints, and one bit of romance at the end. This chapter ends in something like a cliffhanger, but only if you considered a pencil rolling off a table like a cliffhanger.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_In the Mirror_

January and February passed by like refreshing breezes in the summer; too quickly to really make note of them. Hermione's memories of those months amounted to a general impression of activities. She rarely saw Blaise, who spent most of his time mysteriously disappeared with Ginny or Draco. Hermione only met with him to work on Defense assignments, and then Bianca was glued to his side. When he needed time alone, Bianca was sent to either Hermione or Harry to watch over, and once she went to Dumbledore's office. Otherwise, she could not be pried away from her brother.

Ginny, when she was not with Blaise, traveled between a few different groups of friends. One consisted of Hermione, Harry, and Draco, another of Gryffindors in her own year, and a third of Ravenclaws. Every so often, Hermione saw her with Hufflepuffs as well. When asked, Ginny told them that she was just "socializing."

The Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor was coming up. Harry and Draco continually tried to sneak into each other's practices, and almost always got caught by the other. They argued amiably about it afterward, until Hermione slammed her books shut and left to find a quieter place to study than the library. Draco's free time was spent with either Blaise or Harry, but he had nearly stopped talking to Hermione. He did not tease her once that she remembered. Harry often wandered off alone, and later Hermione would find him deep in conversation with Colin Creevey, whom she suspected was suicidal. They seemed to help each other by talking. Hermione tried her best not to interfere.

As for herself, N.E.W.T.s became her foremost occupation during those months. She had begun to study more fervently after the Christmas break, and since her friends seemed to be gone for the majority of the time, she used the opportunity to look through her enormous stacks of notes. The others told her numerous times that she needed reviewing least of anyone, but she would not be phased.

During all this, Hermione learned some things about Bianca, and became quite fond of her. She really was a seer, with true, constant ability. She was continuously telling them things that would happen in a few minutes' time. Blaise irritably told her to stop.

"I have to put up with this at home too. Since she was six years old. She hasn't learned yet what is necessary to tell and what isn't." This excepted telling Mr. Zabini, whose first name Hermione did not know, about Blaise whenhe tortured her. No one mentioned that incident, because whenever they did Bianca went white and clung to whoever was nearest.

She was a gifted, intelligent girl, who enjoyed reading almost as much as Hermione. Through this, the two bonded instantly, and often when Hermione was studying, Bianca would look over her shoulder or take a pile of notes and read nonstop. They had already held several interesting debates over certain pieces of information, in most of which either side had valid points.

The most interesting of these came one day when Bianca was looking through _Fantastic Beasts and Where to_ _Find Them: Second Edition_ and suddenly stated, "Well, that's not right."

Sensing an oncoming discussion, Hermione looked up from her Ancient Runes notes. "What's not right?"

"This." Bianca pushed herself out of the cushy armchair, which was far too large for her, and came to stand by Hermione's chair. "This section on the chimaera. It says that the teeth sometimes carry poison. That's not true."

Hermione stared at her. "Bianca, people have died from the poison in a chimaera's teeth. Of course it's true."

"No, they said it wrong. Chimaera's teeth always carry poison."

"But people have also lived through a bite," Hermione pointed out.

"Only when the poison was non-lethal."

Hermione stared again. "_Non-lethal_ poison? There's no such thing, Bianca."

"Of course there is. See, there are two breeds of chimaera. One is the _Chimaera Antiquus_, and the other is the _Chimaera Internecivus_. The _Antiquus_ has the poison, and has to have existed since before the 1300s. The _Internecivus_ was born with an unfatal version of the poison but is more likely to bite your head off."

Though Hermione was not completely convinced, she knew that Bianca tended to be right. She suggested that Bianca should discuss the wild beasts with Hagrid. Bianca, who had seen the half-giant around the grounds and had been eager to meet him, brightened at this idea. Soon enough, she was spending almost as much time with Hagrid as she did with Hermione.

March went rolling by, and Draco and Blaise stopped disappearing so much. Curiously, Hermione asked what they had been doing all that time. Draco cryptically told her to watch the Slytherins, then stated that he had to meet Harry in the library.

It was by following Draco's nonspecific advice that Hermione discovered the results of Blaise and Draco's "secret time," as she had started to call it. Ginny grinned whenever she used this term, which encouraged her. Thisamusing phrase was far less interesting to Hermione, however, than what she saw occurring within the ranks of the Slytherins.

It was more apparent with students of younger years, ones who had not had as much time to make enemies. Kids Hermione knew to occupy Slytherin House, either from previous observation or just from the insignia on their robes, could be seen purposefully mingling with the other houses. The largest effort seemed to revolve around making a kind of reluctant peace with the Gryffindors. Puzzled by this behavior, Hermione sat and wondered for hours until at last she recalled something that Draco had said at their meeting earlier that year.

"Not being part of the Slytherin hierarchy, you have no idea how influential Blaise and I are within our House. We could convince them, one by one if we have to, that joining Voldemort, supporting him in any way, is a bad idea."

Hermione deduced that they had started to put that part of their plan into action, after so many months. They probably asked Bianca to let them know whether certain individuals were approachable. Slytherins were a careful folk.

More surprising to her than the Slytherin's attitude to the rest of the school was the day when Millicent Bulstrode approached her in the library. She had doubted that the large girl knew where the library was located.

"Erm, Granger," Millicent began.

"Yes?" Hermione replied, somewhat warily.

"Remember that time in second year when I had you in that headlock?" said Millicent hurriedly.

Hermione felt her face darken. "Yes," she said again, this time in more of a grunt.

"Well, I wanted to, er, to apologize."

Looking up in amazement, Hermione could tell that Millicent was sincere. For a moment the shock kept her from speaking, but eventually she found her voice. "Oh, that's all right," she said. "It was years ago, anyway. I don't hold grudges."

Of course she was lying. Everyone held grudges; everyone knew that everyone held grudges. However, Hermione was quick to forgive when asked, except for the most offending actions. "Would you like to sit down, Millicent?"

Millicent Bulstrode eyed the chair at which Hermione pointed, but sat with a fair amount of grace. "I want you to know that Draco talked to me," she said. "And I think we're on the same side. We want the same things, you know? It was just House enmity, but we can overlook that if you can."

Hermione smiled at her. "That's good." She impressed herself, to be smiling at a girl who had put her through one of the worst experiences of her life- two, if she counted turning into a cat. She had taken the hair thinking that it was Millicent's.

"Um, Gran- Hermione?" a voice broke into her thoughts. It belonged to the girl who had been an enemy until very recently. "Sorry, your eyes looked a bit glazed."

"I let my mind wander sometimes," Hermione told her, brushing it off. "If you spent a lot of time with me, you probably wouldn't even notice."

"I have some homework I need to do," Millicent said. "But it was nice talking to you, Hermione." She left the feeling that they were old acquaintances, running into each other at the store.

Incredibly confused, Hermione packed her books and approached the Gryffindor common room. Inside it, she found Ginny, Harry, Blaise, and Bianca sitting in the small ring of overstuffed furniture. It seemed that most others were letting them alone, though Ron would not stop glancing suspiciously in their direction.

Harry was tying an envelope to Hedwig's leg. Hedwig, though looking slightly ruffled, tolerantly waited until he had finished. She flew out of the open window as soon as the letter was secure, Harry watching her intently.

"Why is the window standing open in the middle of March?" Hermione asked, and closed it with a wave of her wand. The others looked up at her.

"Hi, Hermione," they seemed to say collectively.

"Harry," Hermione began, "do you realize that you've sent four letters in two days? Why don't you use one of the school owls and give Hedwig a break?" Harry looked sheepish, and shrugged.

"Yeah, Harry," Blaise put in. "What could be so important that you would tire out your owl and not even think that she might need rest?"

"Harry, are you blushing?" asked Ginny.

Harry cleared his throat and said, "So Hermione, you look a bit lost in thought."

This was entirely untrue, as Hermione was paying close attention to Harry. He had been very secretive about his mail this past year, she realized suddenly, and wanted very much to know why. She looked over at Ginny, who looked curiously back at her, and mouthed "We should talk."

Ginny nodded, but made no move to get up. She had apparently been spending quite a while running her hands through Blaise's hair, and had not yet stopped. Blaise's face kept twitching, as though he was holding in his response to Ginny's attentions. He was probably being protective of Bianca, though she was reading and not payingheed to anyone around her.

"Something interesting just happened," Hermione decided to tell them. At this, even Bianca looked up at her. Though she found many things interesting that the others did not, she did not make a habit of talking about them. "Millicent Bulstrode just decided that she wanted to become friends with me."

Harry immediately started laughing; Blaise smiled knowingly. Ginny seemed not to have heard. "That's a good one, Hermione," chortled Harry. "I don't know how you could actually say that with a straight face."

"You do realize, Harry, that the most unlikely Slytherin to make friends with us was one of the first to do so?" Hermione reminded him crossly.

"Hey, I was unlikely, too," Blaise protested.

"Not so much as Draco," said Hermione. "He's acted very much like he hated Harry ever since he decided to be friends with Ron."

"Maybe that's the secret, then," Harry said thoughtfully. "I can't be friends with both of them at once." He and Hermione looked over at Ron, who appeared to be eavesdropping on them. Harry turned back to the group and addressed Hermione. "So, you're saying that Millicent Bulstrode, one of our former enemies, has recently had a change of mind just like Draco Malfoy and Blaise?"

"They never changed their minds," Hermione said automatically. "They never supported Voldemort to begin with."

"That's right," agreed Blaiseemphatically.

"Why did you wait so long, then?" Harry asked.

"Well, we didn't feel it necessaryuntil recently. We're coming of age for Eaterism and knew that if we didn't get out by then, we would be stuck forever. And Draco and I are the ones who are convincing the Slytherins to abandon Voldemort. As we said we would do."

"I still think it's odd," Ginny spoke up finally. She shook her head. "I'm not sure how far we can trust some of these people."

"They've only approached the ones we were sure of," Bianca said suddenly. "I told them which Slytherins were safe to change and which ones would have to wait."

Ginny looked irritably at the top of Blaise's head. "Why do you involve her in this business? She's so young, she shouldn't have to deal with it."

"Right, and eleven years old is the perfect age to start fighting Voldemort," retorted Blaise. "She's involved anyway. She's been tortured by Death Eaters. There's no going back from there. I should know."

This caused them all, except for Bianca, to stare at Blaise. He had never revealed this much to any of them before- not even Ginny, as Hermione could tell by her expression.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked, her voice taking on a worried tone.

"This past summer," Blaise said. "My father caught me eavesdropping. That's how I found out about the beginnings of the Eaters' new plans. Afterward, he had to… reinforce the fact that I was not to repeat anything I heard."

"But you did."

"Yeah, I did, Hermione. That was another reason why I knew it had to be now. I will never aid Voldemort in any way, but if he tortured me once, then I have no doubt he'll do it again. He always seemed to dote on Bianca, I didn't think he'd touch her. Now, neither of us are going home again."

"My things are still there, though," Bianca told him. "I want them."

"Sorry, Bianca," Blaise answered. "We can't. I suppose we can make one trip while no one else is home, and retrieve only the most important items. The rest of it, we'll have to leave." Bianca looked placated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Ginny. She looked a bit put out. "I've told you… everything."

"I haven't told anyone before this."

"Bianca knew, though," Harry said. "I could tell. She didn't seem surprised at all."

Blaise's sister looked up from her book again. "I just knew."

* * *

As Millicent was making her way to the library to talk to Hermione, Draco was London-bound. He sat alone on the train, thinking of anything but the legal meeting to come. His mind wandered to a day early in February.

Pansy Parkinson strolled over to him in the nearly empty dungeon common room. He was doing research for a Charms paper that was due in a few days. He ignored Pansy until she sat and spoke.

"Hi, Draco." She did not sound as high-pitched and flirty as usual.

"Hello, Pansy," he answered. "What do you want?" He was not being rude, just direct. Anyone who had known him as long as Pansy would appreciate the difference.

"I know what you've been doing," she said immediately.

"Yes, homework," he responded, holding up his Charms text.

"No, not that. I mean with the Slytherins. I know you've been cornering individuals and convincing them to join Harry Potter, or at least not to join the Dark Lord."

Draco looked up and studied her eyes. He had thought she would be trying to look threatening - a losing proposition for someone like Pansy - but she was serious and surprisingly impassive. The blue of her irises seemed brighter than usual.

"What were you planning to do about it?" Draco asked, when too long had passed in silence.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm with you," said Pansy. She smiled. "I always have been. I admire you, Draco, I always have. I watch you more closely than you know, and I've been aware forever that you don't support the Dark Lord. You never let on to anyone, though. Even your father never thought… but I won't talk about that right now."

"I have given Voldemort a good amount of consideration for years," she continued. "About as much consideration as I've given you. And I came to realize that following you would be more beneficial than becoming his servant. You're a good person, and I want to be a good person. I know I would never be able to do this myself, but if I have you - as a friend," she added quickly, "then I'm sure I'll be able to get through anything."

"That's something," murmured Draco. As for him, he had never given Pansy a second thought. He had always assumed that she would follow in the footsteps of her parents, "loyal" Death Eaters.

"I've been working up the courage to talk to you," admitted Pansy. "It's taken a while because I know what you think of me. No, don't deny it. I do cling, and I don't always catch on to the signals you send me. I was in love with you for a while, but I know who you desire. It's not me."

Draco looked at her, narrowing his eyes in alarm. How could Pansy Parkinson know about him and Hermione?

"You can trust me," Pansy said. "I won't give you away."

"I suppose you mean that in more than one way. Pansy, I must say this is something of a shocker. I never considered-"

"I know. And that's all right. But now, I'm going to try to be everything I know you are."

Draco did not know how he felt about being a role model. He supposed it was flattering, but he did not want to be watched so closely. He would have to be careful about his actions. Who knew how many other, more impressionable Slytherins looked up to him along with Pansy Parkinson?

In London at last, Draco stepped off the train and headed straight for his brand new Wizard Lawyer. This particular lawyer worked at the Ministry, and was a half-blooded wizard named Meynard Mullip. He was fairly new to the business, a wizard from Canada who had gone to school at Beauxbatons, but his name was quickly gaining stature. He knew every Wizarding law in every country, and therefore was extremely adept at finding loopholes.

"Mr. Malfoy, please come in. I hope you don't mind if we're the slightest bit rushed. I have some official Ministry business directly after our meeting," Mr. Mullip said in a hurried, friendly but businesslike voice.

"Not at all," said Draco. "I need to get back to school, anyhow."

"Ah, that's right. You still attend Hogwarts." Mr. Mullip's voice had a strange version of a French accent. Draco recalled that he had grown up in Montreal, a French city. French had probably been his first language. "I had forgotten. Well, I looked over everything. Since your father has signed your money over to you, you may change the contract as you see fit. He no longer has any say."

"I thought it would be best to make sure."

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. Now, from our talks, I have gathered that you would only like to change the part of the contract that allows a Parkinson to take over your money."

"That is correct, Mr. Mullip. I have a succession of three inheritors chosen, each of whom would receive all I own in the event of my death. I chose three because if the first is dead, then it would go to the next, and so on."

"A good move. If you have the names, I will take them down. It should only take a moment to alter the contract, and then we can both be on our way. Name one?"

Draco had been mulling this over in his mind for two months. As far as he was concerned, he had not yet chosen the proper order for the names. However, at that moment he spoke without hesitation: "Harry Potter."

Mr. Mullip paused for a moment. One did not have to be from England to know that name. It would not have taking him long to find out about the Malfoy family, either. His surprise was not unexpected. He recovered quickly, and made a note with his wand. "Two?"

"Hermione Granger."

"And the last?"

"Blaise Zabini."

Another minute passed, and Mr. Mullip had wrapped everything into a file and levitated it into a drawer. "Your new contract will be processed by tomorrow. As you requested, no one will be notified."

"Thank you, Mr. Mullip. You've been quite helpful." Draco held out his hand, and his lawyer shook it.

"No trouble at all, Mr. Malfoy. Doing business is… what I do."

* * *

Hermione could almost feel Ginny's excitement as the girl's footsteps approached her room. More than excitement, she felt another twinge of guilt at what they were doing. Ginny might be willing to go through other people's mail, but in Hermione's opinion private letters should be kept private.

The door opened, then closed after Ginny had slipped in. "I think these are all of them," she said, waving a stack of letters clutched in her left hand. "I'm surprised you suggested this, Miss Head Girl."

"Shut up, Ginny. I just want to know what's going on with Harry. He's been very odd, and I heard Parvati saying that he was 'attached'." That had been quite a strange thing to hear. If Harry was interested in anyone, he had certainly done well at hiding it.

Neither Hermione nor Ginny recognized the handwriting. Hermione immediately skipped down to the signature, where it said, "Love, Katie."

"Who's Katie?" Hermione asked the air in front of her.

Ginny shuffled through the stack until she reached the first one - all the letters were dated. The signature on this letter, dated September 23, said Katie Bell.

"What is _she_ doing writing to Harry?" Ginny exclaimed. "And what is Harry doing writing to her? It's not as though they were close friends while she was here, now suddenly she's left Hogwarts and they're regular correspondents?"

"Maybe there's an explanation that makes perfect sense," Hermione said, though she doubted it. As far as she knew, Katie and Harry had always been friendly, but never had more than a basic conversation.

"And maybe it's in the letters," Ginny retorted, sitting down on the floor and starting to read.

"Ginny, we just wanted to find out who he's been writing to."

"And now I'm curious as to why. Care to join me?" She patted a spot on the floor next to her.

After a moment's deliberation, Hermione shrugged and sat. She grabbed about half the stack and tore into the letters voraciously. They were almost as educational as a textbook.

It seemed to Ginny and Hermione that Katie had been bored and wondered how the Quidditch team was faring - at first. The second letter got into heavier issues, such as Katie's home life, which was not horribly troubled but far from perfect, and Harry's general depression.

Eventually, they started talking about plans for the future, and Katie included a description of the house she wanted and pets she had decided to have. When Ginny and Hermione, at the same moment, reached for the last letter, they found a large surprise there.

_Dear Harry, Thank you for your last letter, it came at a perfect time. I had just had a fight with my mum, but you lifted my mood with all that stuff you said. No one's ever spoken to me like that before. I'm doing okay now, but I really think I need to get away. Would you mind if I came to visit you at Hogwarts sometime soon? I really do miss the place, and I'd love to see you. Love, Katie._

Hermione and Ginny sat processing this letter, letting it drop to the floor. "Well," Hermione began. "Well. Um, Ginny, why don't you go and put these back in Harry's room before he comes back from practice? I really don't want to have to explain what we were doing with his mail."

A few minutes after Ginny left, Hermione got up to restlessly walk the corridors. She supposed that jealousy was a normal reaction for a single girl such as herself, but she still felt bad. She wanted to be happy for Harry - and Katie, when it came to that. Instead, she found herself almost resenting them.

Why was she so reluctant to let others have their moment? Was it because she had thought she would have had hers by now? What a ridiculous thought that was. Yet as she wandered past portraits, doors and suits of armor, all she could think of was the unfairness of it all.

_What I need_, she thought,_ is to know just what it is that I want_.

Almost immediately after this thought occurred to her, a door appeared to her right. She looked around, getting her bearings, and realized that it was the door to the Room of Requirement. She had reached that area of the castle without thinking.

Uncertainly, she entered the room. Perhaps it would help her with her problem. That was what it was for, after all.

The room was empty but for a mirror standing at the opposite end. It was very tall and impressively framed in gold. An inscription at the top appeared to be written in an unfamiliar language, but upon a second look Hermione could see that it was a sentence written backward. She had only to glance at the first word in the inscription to know what mirror stood before her, for that word was "Erised".

"This is a mirror… that shows me my heart's desire." She did not look into the reflection at first, scared of what she might find there. Harry had told her all about this mirror, seeing his parents… Hermione had an idea of what she would see. She had been denying it, even to herself, but how could he work her up so much if she didn't care for him? She wanted him to be a man she could be proud to love. She doubted he could give up his pride, though.

But maybe she was meant to make a small sacrifice, as well. So he was not the person she had imagined her life with. So he often seemed incapable of being nice, polite, or considerate. He had already shown that he was changing; on top of that, he was a good person. She had known that for a long time.

She could give up the dream of perfection she had held for so long if it was necessary for her to know love. With this new resolution, Hermione gazed deliberately into the Mirror of Erised, and saw…

Only herself. She was alone. Hermione felt both confused and disappointed. That could not be her heart's desire- but wait. Hermione-of-the-mirror was smiling, and she knew that she was not. All of a sudden, a pale, strong hand slipped into the hand of Hermione-the-reflection. The person to whom the hand belonged, she knew before looking, was Draco Malfoy.

Draco-of-the-mirror looked at Hermione-of-the-mirror with all his emotions plain in his eyes. His face only showed his usual half-smile, but his eyes were brighter than she had ever seen them. Hermione-of-the-mirror returned his loving look.

That was all Hermione needed to see. She lingered a moment, not wanting to leave this pristine, wonderful sight. Then she bolted from the room, not even noticing Peeves the Poltergeist as he dropped a Dungbomb that narrowly missed her head.

Hermione was about to make her vision a reality. Nothing would stop her.

…TBC…


	16. A Lovely Flame

A/N: Back again! This chapter is a little shorter than most of the others, I think, but I figured that no one will notice the difference too much. In this chapter, Draco and Hermione have some F-U-N. Enter the romance.

On a different note, who else can't wait for the 6th book? Next saturday! the tension is building, the antici- (say it! say it!) -pation makes us all quiver. My luck - I'm having my wisdom teeth out the day before. Don't count on another chapter for a few weeks at least. Forward, march!

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_A Lovely Flame_

Draco could have Apparated from London to Hogsmeade if he had really wanted to. He had achieved his license the previous summer (his birthday was in May), and if he was allowed to leave school to meet a lawyer, he would be allowed to Apparate as well. However, he was in no hurry to return to Hogwarts. These days he could barely stand being around Hermione.

It was that sodding pendant that had started it. He appreciated the gift and wore it every day. He had not anticipated that it would cause such a disturbance in the friendship he was slowly building with her, but ever since his return from the holiday, he felt awkward near her and could not think of a thing to say that did not somehow involve the words "please shag me". Awkward was not a feeling Draco Malfoy was used to, and he hoped he never grew accustomed to it.

There were quite a few shops in Diagon Alley that he had never entered; among them was a small jewelry shop. On that day, just after a quick lunch and two hours before his train back to Hogwarts was due to leave, he breathed deep and stolidly walked through the door. A small tinkling of bells sounded as the door closed behind him. It was a fairly pleasant sound, but for some reason Draco found it surpassingly annoying.

"Welcome, young sir. Are you here for a gift, or just to browse?" An average-height, attractive witch draped in a wispy shawl embossed with golden suns swept across the shop toward Draco.

"A gift," he said uncertainly. "For this girl."

"Ah, of course. Come with me, we'll find something wonderful for this lucky girl." The witch winked at him- something he was used to, but did not generally care for. It would have been just as awkward had Professor McGonagall winked at him.

He saw a heart-shaped ruby on a diamond chain, a pendant of two dolphins joined to find a heart, pearl earrings that just happened to look like hearts, and many other pieces in the same ilk before he told her to stop. The witch blinked vaguely and asked, "Well, is there something in particular you were looking for?"

"Er - something _not_ in the shape of a heart," Draco said. Giving Hermione heart-shaped jewelry would probably not make her very happy. It would most likely make her angry and she would tell him she couldn't take it. The witch frowned slightly, but then gave him a knowing smile and told him to wait while she retrieved something from the back room.

He stood in the middle of the shop among display cases of sparkling jewels. Some of these were probably enchanted, but most were normal, boring things. Boring in a good way, of course, but still boring. Most of it, he noticed, was completely beyond Hermione's taste. Even within her new look, she preferred simplicity and elegance, rather than extravagant or flashy things.

Draco's vivid fantasy of Hermione lying on his bed wearing nothing but black satin sheets was interrupted when the witch who presumably owned the shop returned with a box in her hand. She gave him a bright smile as she opened the lid and lifted out a necklace that Hermione was sure to love.

Draco pulled out his money bag. "I'll take it."

Surely it was expensive, but if it would warm Hermione up then money was no object. If he could only get her to really fall for him, then he could get what he wanted. Presents, as far as he was concerned, were a good place to start. The necklace retreated to a pocket of his cloak and remained there through the entire train ride.

At last, Draco was back at Hogwarts, and reluctantly emerged from the Great Outdoors into the entrance hall. He had managed to arrive a few hours before dinner. Very few students were anywhere near the Great Hall. The ones who did walk by did not seem to pay him any attention.

Instead of heading directly to his dormitory, Draco opted for a stint in the Gryffindor common room. He could do with seeing a few friends. Blaise was likely to be there with the actual Gryffindors. Unless, of course, he was snogging Ginny Weasley in some closet…

Oh, gods. The idea of snogging in a closet made Draco think of Hermione, and then more fantasies happened in the space of a few seconds. In one of them, she had him tied to his bed and was standing over him in a tight and completely tasteless leather outfit that he was sure she would never wear.

He wished he could get her to stop invading his fantasies. He was not in the habit of fantasizing about one person exclusively. It was against his nature as an incredibly attractive and sex-mad teenage male. _Maybe she would wear it if I ask really nicely… NO! BAD!_

"Oh, er, hello Draco," said Hermione. This was not another fantasy; no, Hermione actually was standing in front of him. They had reached the portrait hole at the same moment.

"Hi," he replied. He thought it sounded a bit stupid, but Hermione smiled. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Hermione hesitated, averting her eyes from his. "Well, I…er… Draco, there's something I…"

"Yes?"

A long pause during which they both stood embarrassedly before the Fat Lady's portrait followed. Hermione shook her head suddenly with a half-smile, uttered the password, and disappeared. Draco came right after, but she was already heading to her room. Glancing around, Draco found Harry and Bianca sitting on a large, plush couch and hurried to join them as occupants of the common room glanced his way.

Just as he settled himself down, Hermione returnedfrom thedormitory carrying her cloak. She called to them, "I'm going for a walk, I'll be back in an hour or two."

"Do you want any company?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no, that's all right, Harry. You keep studying."

"I'm not studying."

"Well, keep doing whatever it is you're doing, and look after Bianca."

"That's part of what I was doing."

"Good." Hermione now had her cloak around her shoulders and was deftly fastening the clasp. She turned back for a moment at the portrait hole, looking at Draco, but in another second she had gone.

That glance was excruciating for him. He wished she would either stare adoringly or not look at him at all. "Stupid emotions," he muttered.

"What was that, Malfoy?" Harry said distractedly.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself." Bianca looked like she wanted to speak, so he stood. "You know, I think I'll go put my cloak away. It isn't really that cold inside the castle… what is that, Potter?"

"Plans for the team. You know. To beat your team." Harry grinned.

Draco chose not to respond. He figured he should let Harry think he was going to win. That way it would be more of a victory… He cared a lot less about winning than he had in the past. He knew that it was incredibly unlikely that he would finally beat Harry at Quidditch, and unless he did Slytherin would lose the cup again. They were used to it by then.

In the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle were cornering Neville Longbottom. They were just in the process of knocking his books out of his arms when Draco stepped in. "Now, boys, that was quite unnecessary, don't you think?"

The two great oafs watched dumbly as Draco helped Neville gather his things into a relatively neat pile. Neville smiled nervously at him, and Draco gave him a reassuring look. He then glared at Crabbe and Goyle. "Clear off," he ordered.

They seemed to gather their limited wits at that moment. They straightened their shoulders and put on their most threatening looks. Mostly, this meant sticking their jaws out as far as they could. "What makes you think we'll be any easier on you than we are on this idiot?" Goyle asked, halfway between grunting and growling.

Draco put on his most threatening look, the look that said I-can-easily-hurt-you-far-worse-than-you've-ever-been-hurt-in-your-life. The look was completely honest and his two former cronies knew it. They shrunk a bit before his cold stare, and Draco made his retort. "I think it's a bit snobbish of you to call anyone an idiot when you barely got enough O.W.L.s to keep from being chucked out."

With grimaces uglier than words can describe, they lumbered off toward the Great Hall, most likely to await dinner. Draco turned to Neville and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "All right, Longbottom?"

"Er - sure, Malfoy. Thanks."

Draco nodded. He had started to move toward the Slytherin dorms when Neville called him back. "Listen, Malfoy… I don't really know how to say what I'm thinking. Er, well, it's just that you never were like this before. You were… well, you already know how you were. Now, you seem to be close friends with Harry. What changed?"

"I just decided to be myself, is all," Draco replied. "I probably should have done a long time ago, but," he shrugged, "everyone makes mistakes."

"Yeah, especially me," agreed Neville. He laughed. "I seem to have a natural talent for it."

"Don't worry about it. Some people don't handle stress that well. You should see Malcolm Baddock before a big exam. Sometimes it takes him hours to realize he's studying for the wrong subject."

They both chuckled. "Well, I should get going," Neville said. "Have to put this stuff away before dinner starts, you know."

Draco was feeling more and more like a Gryffindor every day. That was something he had never expected.

* * *

Hermione hoped, as she trod through the forest's blanketing of roots and leaves, that Erik would not be able to read her as well as he usually did. That, of course, was a misguided thought. As soon as he had taken some of the blood she brought, she felt him studying her intently. She willed him not to see her feelings.

"Something troubles you, Hermione."

"No. Not anything you should concern yourself about, anyway."

"Hermione." She faced him. He was smiling, which annoyed her a little. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you wanted me to bring this up. You want to talk about it, but you are, for some reason, afraid. You knew I would see that something was not right. You do not have to tell me what it is, but I know that your true desire is to do so."

Sometimes she reallydisliked vampires. "You are too perceptive, Erik. I'm certain it has gotten you into trouble before." Hermione sighed. "Very well, I'll tell you. The truth is, I… I suppose I'm in love."

"Ah, I thought you were. And this is a bad thing?"

"Well, I'm not sure how to tell him. How could I know he feels the same?" It was a pointless question. Draco had as good as told her that he wanted to be with her. And he wore her necklace every day. Bianca had told her that. "I don't want to be hurt again."

"You cannot spend your entire life hiding from love. It caused more pain than it prevents."

"Did you ever have a lover, Erik?" Hermione asked, trying to not change, but alter the subject a bit.

"I did. Hundreds of years ago. She was a wonderful, generous woman, practical and levelheaded as well. However, after a few years the townspeople found out that I was a vampire. She was the one to warn me, to give me enough time to get away."

"Why did you leave if you loved her so much?" muttered Hermione.

"It is the way I must live. I have two choices in these situations. I can either leave town, or I can kill everyone who approaches in order to defend my life. People are superstitious, and more so then than they are now. They would have done everything possible to drive me out. I have always been unwilling to take life unless it is completely necessary."

Hermione thought he should have asked her to go with him. Erik seemed to read her mind.

"I wanted to tell her to come, but I could not ask that of her. She was a mediwitch, the only one in the town. They needed her, and more so than I. I could survive without her. They could not. I went back ten years later, but she had died by then." For a moment, he was silent. "She would have come if I had asked. Then no one would have been there to cure illness or injuries."

"What was her name?"

Erik smiled reminiscently. "Cecily. Her name was Cecily Dryden."

Immediately Hermione thought of John Dryden, but figured that they probably were not related. Instead, she said, "It wasn't hard to leave her?"

"It was the most excruciating experience of my life, Hermione. I had to do it, no matter how much it hurt. The memory of our love ceased to haunt me long ago. A human does not have as much time to treat the pain and turn it into something else. I can think of her and be warmed by it instead of burned."

"That was very subtle, Erik, thank you."

"I was not aiming for subtlety. I want you to think about what you are doing to yourself if you let this opportunity pass."

Hermione walked quickly on her way back to the castle, trying to push away Erik's words. She was unsuccessful, and ended up pondering the situation deeply. She had two valid options. She could let her feelings remain unsaid, and live in torment until she met another man she could love. She could tell Draco how she felt, and that could go two ways. He could refuse to let their desire turn into a relationship, or he could grab her and kiss her. Either way she would know exactly how he felt.

"That's it," she said to herself. "If I have to keep wondering, it will be worse even than knowing that he doesn't love me." _Should I change before I talk to him? No, there would be no point. I look nice enough, and that would just take more time. I'll go as I am and hope he hasn't changed his mind about me._

It would be near time for dinner, by her guess. Students would be trickling into the Great Hall in a little while. She would rather not confront him with too many witnesses around. Luckily, Draco was headed unaccompanied out of his dorm at that moment, and no one else happened to be in the entrance hall. Hermione took it as a sign of Fate.

"Draco," she called, striding purposefully toward him. "I'd like a word."

"Can it wait until after dinner?" he asked. "I'm quite hungry. It's not that important, is it?"

"It _is_ that important, actually," said Hermione. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to the nearest empty classroom. She closed the door behind them.

"Now, what is it that you-"

Draco got no further before he was shoved against the wall, and Hermione pulled his head down to hers. They kissed ravenously until Draco regained enough presence of mind to pull himself away. Hermione wanted to slap him for doing it.

"Hermione," he shook his head, clearly not knowing what to say. "What are you doing?"

"I _was _snogging, but the other party had some ideas of his own," Hermione returned scathingly. "Draco, I love you. I really do. It took me a long time to figure out why I felt so strangely around you. I finally figured it out: I'm in love with Draco Malfoy." She laughed. "Who would have expected that?"

She knew she was talking too fast, and he probably didn't care about anything she said (so a mean little voice in her head was telling her), but she was so nervous that she could feel her heart pounding in every inch of her body. It was exhilarating and terrifying to tell him.

Draco was silent. His eyes were closed, his hair fallen to hide part of his face. Hermione could swear that her heart stopped when he didn't answer. At last, he took a shuddering breath in and she realized why he was not talking. "Draco… are you crying?"

He raised his head, looking at her, and let her see the tears glistening in his eyes. She reached up to his face, and they spilled over, creating streams of wetness down each cheek. He covered her hand with his, the other encircling her waist and drawing her closer. They kissed again, this time much slower and more tentative than they ever had, and Hermione could taste his tears.

At last they stopped. Draco spoke. "I was wondering when you'd come around," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "I was starting to develop a plan to soften you up, so I could get you to want me again… I guess that's gone to the dogs, though. It doesn't seem to have a point now, if you're already in love with me."

"What was the plan?" she asked with a smile.

"Well, all I had so far was buying you presents. I actually have one thing for you. I should have known to buy you something for Christmas."

Hermione thought that was silly, since she had barely realized she had bought a present for him until she was wrapping it. "Draco, you don't have to buy me anything. I don't want you to think of me that way. Money and presents have very little to do with love."

"Well, take this," he said, handing her a box. "I've already paid for it, and I want you to have it."

Inside was a beautiful, sparkling shape on a simple gold chain. Rubies and diamonds formed a lovely flame. She probably would not have worn it last year, but now, her mind went to work putting together outfits that would look perfect with the necklace. She placed it carefully in the box and looked up to find Draco wiping the tears from his face.

"I can't believe I just cried. Isn't it normal in these situations for the girl to cry?" She hit his arm. He laughed, then suddenly sobered. "Listen, Hermione. I'm just starting to learn what love is. I can't be certain what it is, but I know I care deeply for you. This is very overt behavior for a Malfoy, so take what you can get. I've spent my whole life wondering about love, what it means, and what it feels like. And I think I love you, because whenever we're apart I miss you, and whenever we touch I feel almost like I want to die. Well, except for this time. This time was amazing…"

Draco's eyes glazed over, and he seemed to be getting lost in a fantasy. Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's nice, Draco. Do I want to know what you're thinking?"

"That depends. Would you describe yourself as kinky?"

Hermione could barely restrain herself from another eye roll. Instead, she surprised herself by saying, "I'm not sure, I haven't ever done anything more than snogging with you."

"So you _haven't_ been with anyone else? I knew it. You tried to lie, but you're just too pure to do it. You'd make a horrible Slytherin, you know," he told her with a shake of his head.

"Excuse me, but that is completely untrue. I would do just as well in Slytherin as any other House. Better than some, even. I would have started the mixing of Houses years ago, instead of waiting until it was in my best interest." Draco's eyes darkened, and she felt bad that she had said that. "I'm sorry. I know, you've already explained why… oh, Draco, you're not seriously mad at me. You can't be."

He shrugged in resignation. "You're right. I'm not."

They tongue-wrestled for a bit, until another important point occurred to Hermione. "What do you think we should tell people, Draco?"

"Nothing. They're bound to figure it out on their own. You know this school. I mean, everyone always figures out what happens to Harry at the end of every year. This is far less world-news-worthy than an encounter with Voldie, but it is gossip. And never forget your two roommates, the Twins of the Loose Tongues. Hey, I just had another thought, hold on… haha, loose tongues."

"Draco! If I hear any of that kind of talk, no sex! You hear me?"

"Yes, I - wait. Does that mean you plan to have sex? I thought you were trying to remain a virgin your whole life." She looked witheringly at him. "Well, come on. You had plenty of opportunities to take advantage of me last May, and all through the summer, but you never jumped. I just figured you for one of those 'celibate' types."

"Guess again." She nibbled a little on his neck, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath from Draco. "So you don't think we should try to hide it?"

"Why would we? That's effort wasted. Besides, a romance between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin can only make our story more convincing. It will show everyone that we really do want peace between the houses. Or something like that. It may only tell people that you've finally gotten a sex life, but… what! You _said_ you wanted sex!" She had pulled away, which caused his reaction.

Hermione laughed. "Well, I think it's time we went in to dinner. Before we do anything together, I would very much like to talk to Harry on my own. I can do it quickly, during dinner. Then we can disappear together or what have you."

"You really think the Great Hall is the best place to have a private discussion?" pointed out Draco.

"We do it all the time, when we're trying to figure out the bad guys latest evil plan. No one pays attention during meals, you know."

"Well, do you mind if I stare at you while fantasizing?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

She didn't answer. "Come on, Draco. Even if you can survive on air, I happen to be very hungry. And you did say you were hungry before we started making out."

Draco grinned wickedly. "You curbed my appetite, darling."

They left the room chuckling, and Hermione found herself still smiling as she sat down next to Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Hello, Hermione. Where have you been?" he asked as she began to fill her plate.

"Oh, just having a private talk with one of our friends," she answered. "Speaking of private talks, I need to tell you something."

Harry looked around them. Across the table, Blaise and Ginny were occupying each other. Everyone surrounding them seemed to be absorbed in conversation or food. "Talk. No one's paying attention."

Hermione plunged right in without taking a breath. "Well, I just told Draco I love him so we're going to be… a couple, I suppose. He loves me too, I can tell, and I just wanted to tell you personally before it becomes a rumor."

Harry's fork fell into his lap. He moved quickly to pick up the piece of chicken that had been skewered on the end. He looked pensive as he chewed. "Well," he said at last, "I suppose it doesn't matter what I think, because it's your decision to make."

"I know that, but I want to know you're okay with it. Please, Harry." Hermione knew she sounded ridiculous. It's not like _Harry_ had ever had a claim on her.

"You know how I feel about Draco," he shrugged.

"What, you mean that he's a self-assured, sneaky git?" she supplied.

"Yes, but I meant that I trust him. And you know that I trust you, so…"

Hermione smiled widely. She turned to catch Draco's eye, and he returned her grin with a charming one of his own. She heard a cheer behind her, Ginny's voice saying "Way to go, Hermione! I knew you had it in you."

Hermione turned slowly to face Ginny and Blaise, who were grinning at her across the table. She leaned forward. "You two _want _to be hexed, don't you?"

"Easy, Hermione. No need to start turning on our friends," Harry said with an equally wide grin.

"I have a theory," Blaise began, "that the person we see before us is not Hermione, but her sexy, bold evil twin."

"That's ridiculous, Hermione's not evil," Ginny countered.

"No, but she's definitely not quite as nice as she used to be."

"Tell that to Draco."

Hermione watched their exchange, then burst out laughing. The others quickly followed suit, until their entire section of the table was shaking with mirth. Suddenly, Hermione felt him behind her, and swiveled in her seat. Draco looked quizzically down at her. "What's the joke?"

They all laughed louder. Hermione pulled him down to kiss him happily. The collective gasp from the rest of the students caused their small group to laugh even harder.

…TBC…


	17. Back and Forth

A/N: I know that this story has turned very much AU now that the 6th book is out, but I never intended to leave it in the middle. So I'm going to write the rest, and hopefully some people will still read it. I'm thinking 20 chapters for this story. It might end up being 19, since I've almost reached the part commonly known as climax, but I may be able to get 20 out of this. 

This might be the longest chapter so far: it's about 14 pages, or 6500 words. I really didn't like it at first, but then I did some POV editing and it flows much better. There are a few very important scenes in this chapter, Starring all the main characters with a cameo by a certain vampire mentioned in previous chapters. Sidenote: sometimes I notice that in the document, spaces between words disappear. It is not because I do not know how to type or because I don't think they should be there. Just ignore the fact that certain words that should not be one somehow are, and it will all work out fine. Please read, and especially review, and tell me what you think. Not that I actually go back and change things, I just like to know.

P.S. I was reading through this and realized I would have to push the rating updue to nudity, sex, implied sex, sexual references, and a tiny bit of language. So I guess it is now rated M, though it barely needs to be. Also, the title I picked out of the text has little to do with the plot of the chapter... or does it? It could, depending on how you read it.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Back and Forth_

Rumors abounded for an entire month after Hermione and Draco had kissed in front of the entire Hogwarts population. Most were fairly ridiculous, like the one that Hermione was pregnant with Harry Potter's child and had recently had sex with Draco Malfoy to pass it off as his. Hermione, Harry, and Draco had laughed for about an hour after Ginny told them of the rumor. Not at all shockingly, Ginny had joined in.

It was one week before Easter break when Katie Bell surprised a tomato-red Harry at lunchtime. Draco and Blaise were at the Slytherin table with Millicent Bulstrode, leaving Harry and Hermione alone with the other Gryffindors. Ginny was nowhere to be found. Harry caught sight of Katie in the entrance of the Great Hall and attempted to shrink to a much smaller size.

Hermione, noticing his embarrassment, turned to see Katie coming toward them with a huge smile. She called out, "Harry!" and waved enthusiastically. With slightly less enthusiasm, Harry waved back.

"What's Katie doing visiting you, Harry?" Hermione asked, controlling her voice carefully. Harry just knew that she was trying not to laugh, and this made him feel slightly spiteful.

Harry shrugged, a bit of a plea in his face, before he pasted on a grin and turned to Katie. "Hello, Katie. How are you?" he asked as she slid into the seat next to him. "Feeling better?"

"Better than usual, now that I'm here," she replied. Then, strangely, she giggled. "I'm so glad I got here in time for lunch. I miss Hogwarts food so much lately. I haven't had a quality meal in weeks."

"So, what brings you here, Katie?" Hermione asked, and then patiently waited until the older girl had finished chewing.

"I came to see Harry beat Slytherin one last time. I couldn't pass it up. Especially since he's told me that you guys are friends with Draco Malfoy! I wonder what that will look like. Neither of them will be trying to knock the other off their brooms, it will be quite interesting."

"I don't know about that," Hermione said. "Their arguments may be friendly but they can get fairly intense."

"Hermione, shut up. Unless you want me to start on _you_ and Draco."

Hermione shut up.

In the locker room on the morning of the match, Harry pulled on his gloves with slightly shaking hands. He was not exactly sure why he was so nervous. Perhaps it was the last Quidditch game he would ever play at Hogwarts, or that he was not used to playing against his friends in a serious game. Whatever the reason, his pep talk to the team before they left the changing room lacked any real pep.

Ever the observant one, Ginny approached him as they walked out. "You okay, Harry? You look as though you're about to face a Hungarian Horntail."

He flashed her a small, amused smile. "I'm fine. I think I just need to get up there. I always feel better once I'm in the air."

Ginny nodded. "I know what you mean. When you're flying, it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist. You don't have to think about anything else, and you don't want to… You should hurry up a bit, Hooch is waiting for you."

Harry shook hands with the Slytherin captain without even looking at her. He heard her sniff as though insulted, but he ignored her. He listened instead to Madame Hooch, who had just given the order to mount brooms. A moment later, he was rising into the air, and he had left his nerves on the ground.

As Ginny took off down the pitch with the Quaffle under her arm, Draco hovered over to Harry. "So what's she doing here? Providing a little after-game party for you?" Draco suggested, something like a leer distorting his features.

Harry reached out and punched him. He looked over where Hermione and Katie were sitting. Draco punched him back, and Harry drifted a few feet to the left. He moved back, rubbing his arm. "That was harder than necessary."

Draco gave him a pointed, withering look. "That's your Snitch arm, isn't it?"

"You bastard, you're trying to sabotage me!"

"My parents were married before I was born, Harry. Therefore it's inaccurate to call me a bastard. You could have said 'git', a perfectly serviceable word-"

"Fine. Shut it, you _git_." When he looked at Draco, they were both grinning. Harry began to circle the pitch, keeping his eye open for a glint of gold, the other on his foil. This started a strange back-and-forth taunting between the two of them. Whenever they passed each other in the air, they could not resist commenting.

"Idiot!" Harry called jovially over his shoulder.

"Maniac!" Draco shouted back.

Strangely enough, Harry found that trading insults in the air lifted his spirits. Soon enough, he was looking for Draco almost as much as he looked for the Snitch.

"Pansy!"

"Impotent!"

"Fuckwit!"

"Spawn of Evil!"

Harry heard a bit of the commentary during which he learned that the audience could hear them. He laughed, more amused than he had felt for quite a while. Streaking past every few minutes, Ginny scored quite a few goals for Gryffindor.

The Slytherins were eighty points down, and though they scored about two out of ten shots, Gryffindor would not let them close the gap. Proud to bursting of his team, he swerved to trade a look with Katie. He wanted her to be as proud of him as he was of himself. It seemed that she was.

On impulse, Harry flew into the stands. Katie and Hermione had chosen seats in the front, and Katie leaned a little over the edge as he drew close. They smiled at each other, each knowing what the other was thinking, and Harry inched closer. He glanced around the pitch and at last found the Snitch, glittering across from him. Draco, oddly enough, was making his way toward Harry instead of the Snitch.

"I saw it a moment ago," the blond boy said when he reached the stands, "and I could have won the game for us. I thought it would be more fun if we raced. It's not as much of an accomplishment for me to win if you're distracted."

"You still think you can beat me? Give it up, Malfoy."

"Little you know, Harry." He winked at Hermione. "Ready?" He leaned forward on his broom.

Harry, without thinking, locked lips with Katie, then turned and prepared for the end of the match. "Ready."

Both of them sped off toward the distant hint of gold, flittering near the edge of the pitch. It was not moving as much as usual. It occurred to Harry that the Snitch might be tired, and he would have laughed if he had not been concentrating so hard on the race. He had no room in his mind for anything but the thought of that small winged ball clutched in his hand. He knew he could win. He had beaten Draco at this so many times before, and many other Seekers as well. He could do it again.

They shot ever closer, next to each other the entire way. When the Snitch became truly distinguishable, Draco and Harry began to wrestle with one arm each while keeping the other on their brooms to steady themselves. Trying to unsteady the other enough to push him off course, they had a brief but fiery battle. A Bludger swooped down on them before they would let go.

Draco arced wide, but he regained speed quickly and Harry saw him closing in on the Snitch. He pushed forward on his broom, putting all his will into making it go faster, and hoped it would be enough. Too late, he realized that they would collide. In the moment he had before they would smash into each other, he stretched out his hand and felt it close over something small and solid.

But they did not crash. Harry pulled his Firebolt up in the last second, and the tail of his broom brushed Draco's shoulder. In another half-minute, Harry had landed and been forced to the bottom of a Team Victory Pile. At last, he managed to emerge. The only ones left were him and Ginny. They were joined shortly by Katie, Hermione, and Draco.

"Another Gryffindor victory! No one doubted how this would end," Katie laughed. "No offense, Malfoy."

"Oh, none taken. I never expected I'd beat Harry."

Hermione gave Draco a sensual-looking hug and an even better kiss. "You were great. If your opponent wasn't Harry, you would have won for sure."

"Hey!" Harry protested. "No hug for the victor?"

"Draco needs comforting. He's sensitive about these things, you know." She did not have the chance to say any more. Draco led her by the hand around a few corners, supposedly to find a more private scene.

Katie followed them into the changing room. "I miss this," she sighed. "I didn't really want to leave Hogwarts to begin with, but we all have to grow up sometime. Quidditch, though, I wish I could have kept forever. We had such an incredible team."

"We really did," Harry said. "Obviously we're still doing well, but those first three years were more than I could have hoped for when I got here. Except for Oliver's crazed obsessiveness, that is."

"Right," Katie agreed with a smile.

Ginny slipped out a few minutes later, leaving Katie and Harry to occupy themselves.

The next morning, Katie woke Harry early to say goodbye. After a short kiss, he went right back to sleep. Their activities the night before had kept him up late. At last, he felt rested enough to head down to breakfast. He tried to train his face into the emotionless mask he had so often seen on Draco, to no avail. A smile persistently adorned his face.

The others were already well into their food by the time he arrived. He piled his plate with bacon, eggs, and toast before he even looked at them. All eyes were turned toward him. He adopted as innocent a look as he could muster and said, "What?

* * *

Draco became quite irritating over the next few weeks, bothering Hermione about sex until she seemed tempted to give in just to shut him up. When no amount of coaxing, whining, mocking, begging, or full-body massaging got Hermione to say yes, Draco settled into a sulk. "I cannot believe that Harry 'the Boy Who Lived ToEmbarrass Himself In Front Of Girls' Potter got shagged before me." 

At this, Hermione looked up from her books. "You're a virgin, Draco?"

"Well, yes. What kind of slut do you think I am? Nevermind, don't answer me."

"I don't think you're a slut, Draco, I just know you're a Slytherin. That's a whole other level of sexual promiscuity."

"How would you know? You've never been in our dorms."

"Well, just look at Blaise. I know he was with at least half the girls in your House in one way or another at some point in the past. Now that he's got Ginny 'I'll Do Anything At Any Time' Weasley, he has no need for Slytherin girls."

"Does she tell you about their sexcapades? That's just wrong."

"What?"

"Blaise hasn't told me a thing concerning that, the fucker."

"Draco, I know that you'd love to sit here and talk about this until the hippogriffs come home, but this is the library and I want to finish my homework sometime today." Draco pouted for a while, then left. If it was going to take this much effort to get Hermione into bed, he could hardly see the point.

One rare morning when each of them sat at their respective House tables, Draco became convinced that Hermione was the meanest person alive. The first time it happened, he thought he was just seeing things, but when it happened again three minutes later, he was so surprised that he dropped his fork in his lap. And again, in another three minutes, he saw the same thing. Hermione had cast some kind of spell, Draco deduced, the result of which being that he saw her _completely nude_ for five seconds every three minutes. By the time breakfast was over, he had dropped his utensils numerous times. Hermione was watching him all through the meal, wearing a sly grin.

The next time he had to see her was during Potions. After Snape had given his usual start-of-class lecture, Hermione calmly went to work on her potion. She sauntered as slowly as she could to the store cupboard, carefully selecting her ingredients. Draco felt hot and had to remove his tie and undo a few buttons of his shirt. As she chopped, ground, and stirred, she shot stealthy glances in Draco's direction. He tried to ignore her nakedness, but he felt an erection growing against his will. She had sat at a table in front of his, so he could not just keep his back to her as he worked.

His hands, becoming less reliable every moment, repeatedly dropped ingredients and tools as he tried to do his assignment. The other students could not help looking curiously in his direction, and Blaise, who had chosen the table behind Draco's, hissed at him to concentrate. Draco tried to glare at Hermione; however, his timing was poor, and he almost kicked over his cauldron.

"Malfoy! I do not tolerate such disruptions in my classroom, as you well know," Snape barked.

"Sorry, sir. I'll try harder not to be distracted," Draco replied, his eyes downward.

Hermione snorted. Snape whirled on her and held a staring match with her potion. Draco would have loved for her to be told off, but as usual Snape found nothing amiss. Disappointed, he tried as hard as he could not to cause an explosion.

Draco took a grip of Hermione's arm as they headed to lunch. "You are pure evil, my love," he said in her ear.

A slightly insane laugh issued from her until they sat down, this time at the Slytherin table. Before anyone had joined them, Draco spoke again. "Now, what could possibly have possessed you to do such a thing to me? Have you entirely lost your compassion?"

"Oh, it was only a joke, Draco. Don't worry, the spell only lasts for one day."

"A _day_, Hermione? It feels like it's been weeks already. Do you know why I could barely work?" She shook her head innocently. "I had a boner. The whole time."

"That was all it took?" Hermione returned, her voice low but her tone exclamatory.

"You do not give yourself enough credit. You are the sexiest woman I've ever known."

Blaise and Pansy sat next to them at that moment. "Is that why you love me?" Hermione asked him.

Draco adopted a seductive half-smile. "No, but it helps."

"What helps?" Pansy wondered.

"Nevermind, Pansy. It's nothing," Draco dismissed the question. They filled their plates and had a normal lunch. Five minutes in, Bianca, Harry, Ginny, and Neville had been tacked on to the group.

A cluster of second years walked by them, a cheerful bunch consisting of Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs. They appeared to be as good friends as Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been for so many years. Draco felt a swell of pride in his chest, and it was quite a pleasing feeling. There would always be those who held fast to their prejudices, but so many were now embracing acceptance. The separation of purebloods from all the rest had greatly diminished because of Draco and Blaise's efforts.

He attempted to catch Hermione's eye, but unfortunately he did so just as the spell took effect again. Clenching his jaw, Draco excused himself from the table and took a walk by the lake to relieve what felt like a fever in his entire body. As long as he stayed out, however, he could not seem to get rid of that most inconvenient arousal. He decided to take a bit of a swim.

He did not strip down, but he did remove his robes and shirt. In only his pants, he forged into the lake and dove under. Taking care to remain close to shore and not disturb the giant squid, Draco floated back and forth in the cool water for a while. When he had finally relaxed, he emerged. He headed back toward the castle, dripping wet and carrying the bundle of his robes under one arm.

He had prefect duty that night, a completely unfair circumstance. Seventh year prefects hardly ever had to do night patrols. That task usually fell to the fifth and sixth years. He supposed they wanted to free up more time to study for N.E.W.T.s. Why he had been given prefect duty this night, with the test looming close, was unfathomable.

Draco did not bother to pay attention as he stalked through the castle, muttering inwardly about the injustice of it. He was sure that quite a few students were getting away with very disreputable activities, but he was taking a stand. Instead of taking note of anything around him, he thought about Hermione. The spell she had cast could only be described as evil. For hours he had been tortured by the numerous fleeting sights of her naked body. He wished he could hate her for it, but he made a point to separate love and hate with a thick, thick wall.

Being a part of the Malfoy family, rich, cold, and amoral, had taught Draco all he needed to know about hate. It had taken someone like Hermione to teach him what love was. The brief interaction with his mother at Christmastime had pushed his education along considerably. He knew, after this odd learning process, that real love could not coexist with hate toward any particular thing. He knew that if he let them combine, the person he had worked to become would disappear.

So, instead of hating Hermione for being cruel, he settled for a scalding annoyance.

At eleven o'clock he finished and returned to the Slytherin dorm. Few students were still in the common room, and those who were only glanced at him as he entered. The Slytherins who remained in the common room this late were usually the ones who kept more to themselves. Draco took little notice of them as he passed on the way to his bedroom.

Darkness met him inside, but before he could touch the lights, by either physically or magically, they flared on by other means. His eyebrows furrowed warily and his hand went to his pocket, where he kept his wand. He did not have much time to imagine what might be happening. As soon as his hand touched the smooth wood of his wand, he spotted Hermione. All thoughts were driven from his mind.

"Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to join me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he replied, "all the blood has rushed to a different part of my body than my brain." Rational thought had pretty much fled by then. Hermione was lying in his bed, between the sheets. She was holding the top sheet over her chest with one hand, and one of her legs was covered while the other was entirely exposed. All of her that he could see was very, very naked. "So you're not wearing anything at all?"

"Come here, Draco."

"You've been refusing me for so long, and suddenly… well… this. Did something happen that I'm not aware of?"

"I just realized that there is no reason to wait. I love you."

His lips turned up of their own accord. He could finally have what he'd been wishing for. Trying not to seem desperate, he began to undress. "How did you get in here, by the way? Did I tell you my password, or was it someone else?"

"Blaise let me in. He was very accommodating." She winked.

Draco shook his head.Fully unclothed, he slid into bed next to her and drew her close. "Just you and me. If we bring anyone else into it, my head might explode."

"Oh, but we haven't even begun," Hermione murmured, her face an inch from his. Draco could not stand it any longer; he grabbed her and pressed his lips to hers, then began to explore her mouth with his tongue. While he did this, he felt her hand in a spot where it had never been.

"Hermione," he whispered, pausing only for a moment in their activities, "are you sure this is what you want?"

She smiled. "I'm sure. Now stop talking and give me orgasms."

* * *

Harry read through Katie's most recent letter for the thirtieth time. He had not received any correspondence from her for almost two weeks, and he missed her more than ever. Between work and Quidditch, she barely had time to think about visiting, let alone spend the night or write a letter. Harry had sent her a letter every day, only because he did not know who else to talk to. 

The last time he had felt this lonely must have been the summer before second year, when Dobby had stolen all of his mail. When Blaise and Draco had joined their circle, Harry had seen it as an opportunity to find less time to be lonely. These days, Hermione and Draco were disappeared nearly as much as Blaise and Ginny, and when Hermione was around she tended to spend all her time on homework. He sometimes hung around with Seamus, Dean and Neville, but those he considered to be his closest friends were more or less occupied. And Ron was… walking toward him at that moment.

"Ron?" Harry wondered.

Sitting near him, Ron swept the common room with his eyes before turning back to Harry. "Hermione hasn't come back tonight, has she?"

"No. It's pretty late, I guess. She must be with Draco for the night," Harry speculated aloud, wanting to be as blunt as possible. Ron did not deserve sugar-coating.

"I'm worried about her. Not because of Malfoy, but something else. Have you noticed that she takes a lot of walks by herself?" He waited until Harry nodded. "I followed her one time. She went into the Forbidden Forest and met with a creature that apparently lives there. It looked close to human, but I'm pretty sure it was a vampire."

"Hermione has been meeting a vampire in the forest?" Harry repeated. It did not sound like something she would do, but she had not been quite herself this year. She still got her perfect grades and studied more than most students, but most other aspects of Hermione had altered severely. Harry suspected that Draco was somehow the culprit.

"I don't know what to do about it, Harry, but I think that she shouldn't be going into the forest alone. If she got into trouble, no one would know until it was too late. If you care about her, you won't let her go by herself again."

"What am _I_ going to do about it, Ron? I can't control her, and I can't keep track of her every minute of the day. If she decides to go unescorted into a dangerous place, I can't exactly stop her," Harry responded, annoyed. "Anyway, you're the one threatening her boyfriend in deserted corridors. Why don't you be her shadow?"

"If I did, she would hate me," Ron answered, shaking his head. "I can't be the one to do it."

After a minute of silence, Harry sighed. "I have noticed Hermione, sometimes, coming from the Forbidden Forest. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but I've suspected that she was hiding something."

"Why didn't you do anything about it?" Ron asked.

"It's called trust, Ron. There's a word it wouldn't hurt you to learn. Maybe you just like holding grudges, but Draco really is our friend and really would be yours."

Ron shook his head again. "My brothers would kill me even if I _did_ want to be friends with Malfoy. As it is, I don't, and I don't see how you could ever forgive him. He's said things about your family-"

"And we've said things about his. Maybe while you're looking up trust, you can check forgiveness as well. Nothing he has ever said was so hurtful that it should stop us from being friends." When Ron said nothing, Harry decided to go for another angle. "And what about Ginny? Are you planning to ignore her for the rest of your life? Do you think your brothers or your parents will disown her, like they did with Percy?"

Ron glared. "You have no right to bring that up."

"None of us are doing anything wrong. Draco and Blaise have caused most of the Slytherins in the school to completely denounce Voldemort." Ron flinched, but only a little. "They've done as much for our side as you ever have."

"How can you say that? I fought beside you. I was knocked unconscious by a twenty-foot chess piece when I was eleven years old – for you!"

"Draco is the reason Voldemort has lost nearly all future supporters. Without them, he'll be much less of a threat. People like him can't function without followers."

Ron stared at the floor. He was wringing his hands gently, and his left foot tapped on the stone in a quick tattoo. He did not deny that Draco Malfoy was helping or that Harry was right to count him as a friend.

"Ron, if getting knocked out by a chess piece would prove to you that I still want to be your friend, I would gladly do it. You were the first friend I ever had."

"I'm willing to do the same, Harry. Really. I didn't mean that I blamed you for it."

Harry's confusion condensed into coherent words, finally. "Then why are we still fighting?"

For a while, neither of them spoke. Suddenly, Ron held out his hand to Harry, who took it. They shook, but when Harry would have dropped the other's hand, Ron held them together. "It's going to take a lot for me to forgive Malfoy," he said quietly, "but I don't think it's quite that hard to forgive you."

* * *

As Hermione left Draco's room, early enough that he had not yet awakened, she gave him one last sidelong smile. She wished she could have stayed in his arms forever, but she had put off visiting Erik for too long. She would not have time later that day, and if she did not leave early enough then she would be late for class. That would be unacceptable. 

The Forest was still somewhat dark, due to the clouds overhead and the early hour. It was likely to brighten up in the afternoon. It was light enough to see her way, but Hermione still felt a little nervous. She knew that many hostile creatures lived there, and the presence of the sun typically kept many of them away.

Apprehensively, she drew her wand and held it out before her. If something did jump out at her, she would be ready with a spell. She had been practicing for N.E.W.T.s, which meant that her reflexes were better than normal.

She had nearly reached Erik's clearing when she heard a rustling behind her. She turned and called softly, "Erik?" The sound had been outside of the area to which he was bound, she realized, and it could not have been him.

"Hermione, is that you?" Erik's voice asked. Turning again, she saw him coming toward her from the clearing. She took a few steps before she was grabbed from behind and dragged backward. Erik ran for her as much as he could, but when he reached the edge of the spell he was blocked. He growled at her attacker, "Couteau, let her go."

Hermione's eyes widened. She knew from Erik's stories what this vampire was capable of. She had dropped her wand when he grabbed her; she had no way to fight him. She struggled, even though she knew it was futile. A vampire would have strength far beyond hers.

A menacing laugh broke from her captor. "This is what makes you weak, Erik. She does not matter. The blood of mortals only runs through her, not the strength of our kind. These humans you wish to preserve are barely alive at all. Stop caring for them now, and you can be free. I miss our adventures. Together, we could tear whole towns apart."

"Until someone with enough power killed us both," retorted Erik. "Your way can never be mine, Couteau, and you must learn that this will not change. If you did wish to change my mind, this is not the way to do it. Let her go."

"I think not. Even as you will not change, I also remain myself. My way is the way of the kill, the taste of blood, the look on your face when I kill someone you care for." Hermione gasped and tugged at the arms holding her.

"Couteau!"

With one hand, Couteau brushed her hair from her neck, while he held her to him with the other arm. Hermione felt tears of fear pricking behind her eyes. "Erik," she pleaded in a strangled tone. He looked on as Couteau's fangs pierced her neck. She cried out as she felt the blood in her veins rush toward his bite. Hermione's vision swam. Her legs weakened, and her brain felt fuzzy. She felt herself be pushed forward, and she thought she fell into Erik's arms. After that, the world was black.

* * *

Draco sat at the Gryffindor table the next morning, hoping that Hermione would be there. When he had woken, she was already gone. It was disappointing to feel the empty space beside him instead of a warm body. He wanted to berate her for it. 

Hermione was not there, but Bianca, Harry, Blaise, and Ginny were. Surprisingly, Ronald Weasley sat only a few seats down, instead of at the end of the table as usual. He and Harry continually exchanged glances, which suggested to Draco that they had reconciled. He had wondered how much longer they were going to go on ignoring each other.

"Ginny," Ron said suddenly. Not just his sister, but all of them responded by looking at him. He reddened under their collective gaze. "Er, could you pass the butter?"

Ginny did so with a smile. Blaise kissed her cheek near the ear, which probably did not do much for Ron's mood. However, he did nothing in retaliation. He must have decided to be civil, quite an accomplishment for someone like Weasley.

"Do any of you know where Hermione is?" Draco asked when she had not shown up fifteen minutes later.

"No, I haven't seen her all morning," Harry answered.

"As far as I know, she hasn't been in Gryffindor Tower since yesterday just after dinner," Ginny added. "We all figured she stayed with you."

"Yes, but she was gone when I woke up." Draco was worried now. It was one thing for Hermione to be absent the morning after their first time together… or rather, first several times. It was another thing for her to disappear without a word to anyone. "Maybe we should check the library. There's a good chance she's there."

On the brink of standing, Draco paused when Bianca spoke. "She's not there."

"Bianca," Blaise said, "you know where she is?"

"Trouble. Something is going to hurt her. Something from the trees. It will come out at her," Bianca told them. She looked directly at Draco. "You should go after her."

For a second, none of them moved. Draco was paralyzed. He repeated her words in his head to get his body to move. They all stood at once. "Ginny, please stay with Bianca," Blaise requested. She seemed about to protest, but he repeated, "Please," and she sat down again. Blaise, Ron, Harry, and Draco all bolted from the Great Hall, Draco in the lead.

"Harry, do you have the Marauder's Map with you?" Ron asked him.

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't show the whole forest. It just shows the fringe. I think she's a bit farther in than we would see." Harry's speech was clipped due to the shortening of breath that accompanies running.

"No need to talk, boys," Draco said. "Just follow me."

Somehow, he knew where he had to go without thinking. He ran so fast that branches whipped his face continuously. The stinging did not fade; Draco suspected that he was bleeding a little, but he did not care. He had to reach Hermione. If he was too late, it did not bear thinking of.

Their destination did not evade them. In no time, though it seemed years, they found a spot near a clearing where a dark figure bent over a limp body. The figure looked up as they approached with impressive speed. He was clearly a vampire, and Hermione had blood on her neck. The creature had been holding her, but he let go as they came closer. Ron shot spells at it, causing it to growl and run, but Draco went straight for Hermione.

He touched her face gently. Her skin was cold, but when he checked for a pulse it came through clearly. "She's alive, but not for much longer if we don't hurry back," Draco said to the others, gathering her swiftly into his arms.

"We'll get back in time. We can take turns carrying her if we have to," said Harry.

Not wasting any time, they took off again. They must have set a record, for they broke the trees in mere seconds. Draco was tiring himself by sprinting for so long carrying Hermione, but the seconds it would take to transfer her to someone else's arms could cost them. Ron suggested that he could take her, but Draco merely shook his head and kept on. As long as he was touching her, it could still be all right.

By the time they reached the castle, all four were already out of breath. Ignoring their own welfare, they pushed on, bearing Hermione at breakneck pace all the way to the infirmary. Harry reached the door first and held it open for Draco. Madame Pomfrey, ever-aware, bustled out of her office almost as soon as the door was opened.

"Gentlemen, this is a hospital wing and I have patients who need quiet… Oh, Merlin, not again!" she exclaimed. "Put her down on this bed. Quickly, now!" Draco placed Hermione as carefully as he could onto the bed. Madame Pomfrey hovered over the unconscious girl, examining her with a sweep of her wand. "She's lost quite a bit of blood, but she has no other injuries. Do you know what happened?"

"Vampire," Draco managed to gasp. Now that Hermione was in the hands of a capable healer, the four men were attempting to regain their breath. It was a difficult feat, considering how far and how fast they had run.

Madame Pomfrey had summoned a bottle from across the room, and spoke to Draco. "Do you mind holding her up while I pour this down her throat, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco obliged immediately. "Blood replenishing potion?" It was not truly a question, but Madame Pomfrey answered nonetheless.

"Of course. Ah, that should do." Draco set Hermione's head back on the pillow. Madame Pomfrey touched her wand to Hermione's neck and closed the wound in an instant. "Now, let me look at those cuts. How did you get these?"

"Running through a whole lot of trees," he responded glibly. With a stern look, the nurse healed whatever minor affliction Draco had acquired, then turned back to Hermione. "Madame Pomfrey, how much longer will she be unconscious?"

"Quite a while," the woman answered. "I doubt she will awaken until tonight. Possibly tomorrow morning. Therefore, I suggest that you boys get to class. It's already halfway into the period by now. Out, now. You can do nothing to help, and there is no reason for you to be here."

Reluctantly, they all trudged from the infirmary. Draco stood staring at the door after it was shut, not wanting to stray far. Eventually, Harry came up to Draco's side. "We shouldn't just stay here, Draco. We have class."

"The fact that you even remember that right now shocks me," Draco responded sharply. He started to pace impatiently. Without realizing it, he brought out his wand and began to twirl it between his fingers. "What could she have been thinking, going into the forest? She's supposed to be intelligent."

After a tense moment, Harry volunteered, "Draco, it seems that Hermione has been doing this for quite a while, meeting with a vampire. Probably the same one we saw."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I was the one who followed her and found out about it," Ron said. "I only talked to Harry last night."

"I was going to tell you. I just didn't have time before Bianca mentioned the whole trouble thing." Harry's face was apologetic. Draco let it go, but did not say so. He paced some more, and hours seemed to pass during which no one said a word. "Draco, really. We should go to class."

"_You_ can go to class," Draco said. "I'm not going anywhere."

To stop his feet from moving, he sat on the floor directly across from the door. Unsurprisingly, none of the others left. Harry and Ron had been close to her for years, and Blaise was one of the most loyal friends Draco could name. He would not have left either Hermione in her unconscious state or Draco in his distraught one.

Time inched by, but no word came. Few words were exchanged. Draco, for his part, barely moved. He willed the door to open, hoping that Hermione would wake up simply by his thinking it. This did not seem to have much effect, but he kept it up. Persistence was an old friend of his.

At the same moment as Draco realized that he was almost falling asleep, the infirmary door opened. Madame Pomfrey stood looking down at them for a few seconds, her mouth set in a stern line. "Honestly, the four of you are being just a bit ridiculous." Before any of them could respond, she sighed and said, "Hermione Granger is awake. You can come in and see her if you'd like."

…TBC…


	18. The Innocent Ones

A/N: Thanks, everyone, for the reviews! This chapter was much easier to write, not being separated at all by time or points of view, so I am able to update much quicker this time.

A few things: 1. In your opinion, do you think my writing is still as good in these chapters as it was in the beginning? I may have put in more effort in the first chapters, but who knows. It's only fanfiction anyway, but I like to write well no matter what. Usually...

2. I do not want this story to exceed 21 chapters. Therefore, you should expect the next two chapters to be extra long. The entire climax is going to take place in chapter 19, so it might be the longest chapter yet. I'm planning to cover all the extra stuff after the climax in chapter 20, and chapter 21 is a suprise. Because of all that these next two chapters involve, it will probably take melonger to update.

3. I don't usually kill off characters I like in fanfiction. I won't give away any more than that, except for this: You should know that two characters will die before the end of the story.

That's all I got for now. Read, review, then wait, I suppose. Have fun with this.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_The Innocent Ones_

The common room in Gryffindor Tower had cleared out for breakfast. Ginny sat on the arm of Hermione's chair, laughing hysterically. Tears were actually coming from her eyes, and she sounded like she was having trouble breathing. When she had regained her ability to speak, she asked again, "Every three minutes?"

Hermione nodded, amazed that she herself could keep a straight face. "For five seconds."

"How much time is that total?" Ginny asked with refreshed laughter.

"Don't forget, there was also the time after the spell, when we…" she trailed off as Ron emerged from upstairs. He saw them, stopped short, and walked toward them. "How are you this morning, Ron?"

He groaned in response. "Right. Meeting." This cavemanesque speech was all they could get out of him at the time. Hermione was not sure that he stayed awake between the moment he sat down and the moment Harry and Blaise entered through the portrait hole, their arms laden with food.

"We got a bit of everything we could carry," Harry told them. "Blaise said that everyone was more likely to be happy if we had choices."

With another grunt, Ron grabbed a few items and began to stuff his face, while Hermione fixed Blaise with a raised-eyebrow Look. "You're becoming quite the philanthropist, Blaise. I'm not sure you can continue in Slytherin now."

"After all the effort Draco and I put in, I find that your words hurt," Blaise responded with a mournful face. He tapped his chest with one hand. "Right here."

"Well, you can get Ginny to kiss it for you," she suggested.

"Hermione, you know better than to give them ideas like that," Harry said in protest as Ginny stood to comply. She settled into Blaise's lap with a few pieces of toast and an apple. "They can disturb us just fine without any help. We should be discouraging them from public sexual activity."

"I'd have to say I agree," Ron grumbled. "It was bad enough to see Blaise snogging girls in hallways when they _weren't_ my sister."

Hermione could not help smiling. After only one day, Ron was already joining in the scathing but lighthearted banter that seemed to occur quite often between the boys. She had the feeling that Ron was more serious about his comments than the others, but he also did not look like he wanted to hit anyone. As far as Hermione was concerned, that was progress.

"Do you know when Draco said he would be here?" Hermione directed her question to Blaise, but it was Harry who answered.

"I believe he wanted to take a walk in the Forest before the meeting. Something about killing a vampire…" Hermione sat up utterly straight, her eyes wide. If Draco went after Erik after she had explained the situation, she would kill him. "I'm kidding, Hermione. You talked him out of going back for your – acquaintance – yesterday evening. He should be here any moment."

"Harry, that was uncalled for."

He shrugged. "You worried us all yesterday. Maybe you should know what that feels like."

"Harry!" Hermione stood, spilling crumbs from her lap onto the floor. "If you asked me to put a number to all the times I've had to worry about _you_, I'd be counting for days! You lead a far more dangerous life than I do, but I don't think about giving you a taste of that back, do I? I'm above that, and I thought you might be as well."

She reclaimed her seat with a pear in hand. By his expression, she could tell that she had angered him, but she found that it did not affect her. Perhaps it was time someone let him know what he was doing when he acted simply for the reaction. Feeling unapologetic, she returned Harry's dark look. The others appeared increasingly uncomfortable as they waited for Draco to join them.

When he came in, Hermione and Harry were still exchanging glares. "Do I want to know what you two have been fighting about?" Harry shook his head, stood, and went to the window.

"Come sit, Draco," Hermione requested. "The sooner we can start this talk, the better."

"Wait," Blaise interrupted. Draco sat on the sofa, next to the pile of Blaise and Ginny. "Does anyone know where Bianca is?"

"She's with Pansy right now," Draco answered. "Helping with her homework, I think. Bianca says she enjoys it, she wants to be ahead when she starts class here."

"She will be if she's doing seventh year homework," Harry said. He reentered the circle and sat in one of the large red armchairs. "All right. Hermione, let's just forget about what we were saying before."

"Why should we?" she shot back.

The room rang with silence before Harry responded. "What?"

"You heard what I said, Harry. Why should we forget about it? I think you don't realize what you keep putting us through. You dive recklessly into whatever you feel is necessary at the moment. I don't know whether you enjoy the thrill or whether you just don't realize how dangerous things are until you've already done them. This summer, when we were staying in London, you kept going out at night, regardless of the fact that Death Eaters would easily be able to attack you whenever you turned a corner!"

"I had Ron with me," Harry protested.

"Ron is not the most efficient bodyguard against a band of Death Eaters, and both you and he know it."

"What makes you think I need a bodyguard?" He sounded angry now.

"But it's not just recently. You have always been quick to act, and you haven't always let us help. Every time you think there's a reason to do something stupid, you do it without stopping to consider what might happen. Ron, you're the only who has known him as long as I have. Isn't it true?"

Ron was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes were not quite on the floor, but neither did he look up. Draco attempted to placate her. "Hermione, now's not the time."

"No," Ron said suddenly. He looked up at them all, his blue eyes more intense than Hermione had ever seen. "He needs to hear this." He stood, took a few steps, and stoppedtwo feet from Harry. "I'm sorry, mate, but it's true. You might not want to hear that your heroic actions could possibly have negative connotations. Maybe you've started to believe this image of you that's been displayed to everyone – not the crazy, compulsive-liar-attention-seeker image. The image of The Boy Who Lived, the hero who is the antithesis of Voldemort. The model good-doer."

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Harry asked through clenched teeth, his voice shaky. The thought sprang to Hermione's mind that he might lash out, possibly punch Ron. Then again, she also thought thatthe way Ron had been acting for most of the year had earned him a black eye.

"Sometimes I really can't tell if you know that you have limitations, Harry. You never seem to stop and think. I've heard you say before that you don't want to put us in danger. You know what, Harry? As long as Voldemort is alive and has supporters, we're going to be in danger no matter what you do. If you don't let us in, then you'll end up dead when we could have kept you alive."

"That's what I meant when I said we worry," Hermione added.

The emerald green eyes did not glare, as she expected. They looked helplessly miserable. He started to pace slowly, walking toward the wall. Ron sat again in his spot, also appearing miserable.

"You don't know what it's like, do you? Either of you," Harry asked. No one spoke. "The loneliness. You've both had your families for your whole lives. People who love you. For _ten years_ of my life, I had no one. I had no friends…no one was even nice to me. I came here, and everyone expected me to be a great wizard right away. I had friends and felt loved, for the first time. I'm not a great wizard, you know. I just do the best I can. I guess I have certain abilities, but everyone has something."

Hermione bit her lip. When she had first come to Hogwarts, it had taken her a while to feel accepted. Parvati and Lavender had been tight with one another from the beginning, and back then she had not gotten along very well with them. No one else had rushed to be friends with her, either, judging her by her love for books or her blood, or both. She looked to Draco, whose eyes were turned her way. He smiled briefly at her.

Harry continued. "The fact that I had you two, Dumbledore, Hagrid… that did not change what I didn't have for so long. There have been times when I've been surrounded by everyone I care for, and the loneliness crept back. That feeling won't leave forever. I can get rid of it for a while, but it always comes back. No matter what you say or do, you can't change that."

"If I lost either of you, Hermione or Ron, it would come back for good. There's no way I could ever feel warm again. My worst fear isn't dementors any longer. It's losing my best friends, who have become my family. That's part of why I don't always include you."

"What's the other part?" Hermione wondered.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. If I had an answer for everything, I wouldn't be the Boy Who Lived. I'd be Dumbledore."

They all laughed. For a moment it was silent after the laughter died away, but it seemed that the tension had passed. They could get on with the purpose of the meeting. While a few of them nicked some more food items from the stash on the table, Hermione said, "You aren't going to yell at me again, are you? Or lecture me?"

"Not to be repetitive," Draco began, quite sarcastically, "but you've been putting yourself in danger by going into the forest on your own. If Bianca hadn't seen that you were in trouble, we might have found you too late. And if that had happened -"

"I've been careful, this whole time. I know a lot about dark creatures, and Erik was never going to harm me. But you know that now, right?"

"There are a lot of things in that forest that could have hurt you. The centaurs, for one. Well, I guess they don't count as one so much as tens, do they?" Harry said. The reprimand was lost in the technicality, and Hermione heard both Blaise and Ginny snigger. However, the memory that Harry had just struck caused her to ignore them.

"But the centaurs are gone! They left the forest a long time ago. I forgot about that. I couldn't tell you because of Erik, I didn't want you to get suspicious and start spying on me. I suppose I shouldn't have bothered." She gave Ron a pointed look, but thattook all ofone second before she continued her explanation. "Once when I visited Erik, Firenze was there with him. According to what they told me, they were old friends. Firenze left the forest more than two years ago, if you remember, because the others considered him a traitor and would have killed him."

"I remember," Harry said with a nod. "What was he doing there?"

"I'm not exactly sure," Hermione admitted. "You know centaurs. He didn't tell me in the most direct terms. He said he had come to 'protect the innocent ones.' The other centaurs had left because men in masks and hooded robes kept coming into the forest and it was no longer safe. I assumed he meant Death Eaters."

"And that convinced you that it was okay to keep going back?" Draco put in, deadpanning.

"Draco, please."

"He's right, you know," Harry agreed. "Death Eaters coming to the forest should have warned you away."

"Erik's lonely, where he is," Hermione countered.

"I will not respond to that right now. But Hermione just reminded me of something. When we had that assignment in the forest for DADA, Draco and I found a Death Eater pretty far inside the border. He was performing some kind of ritual, but I don't know what."

"He was preparing to collect blood," Draco said abrubtly. The focus shifted away from Harry. "The vessels he had with him, and the spells, it was all for blood collecting. I never could figure out what kind of blood he wanted. The strangest part about the whole thing was that when we tried to bring him up to the castle, he disappeared."

"He Disapparated?" Ron asked. "Isn't that impossible?"

"Yes," Draco responded, "which is why I use the term 'disappeared' instead. Also, because he had just been knocked out. I assume it was an anti-capture type spell, to keep the information from our side. It's not even certain that he survived."

"Do you think that the blood might be from whatever Firenze was talking about?" Blaise reasoned. "The innocent ones, wasn't it?"

Draco nodded. "I'm sure of it."

"But what are they? What kind of creature?" Ginny asked.

"That would be the mystery, wouldn't it?" Hermione answered. "I might have a way to find out. There is someone I could ask, and he might have an idea of what in the forest is in danger."

"If you mean who I think you do, you can forget about it." Her head snapped quickly to look at Draco. "You aren't going out to see that vampire again. Not after what happened the last time."

"I have to," she said sternly. "I went there to release him from the binding spell that keeps him captive there. I finally figured out how. Draco, if you think you can stop me, then we have to have a serious talk. You are not my father, nor anyone else who has authority over me." She had never expected that Draco would be the type to feel ownership of that kind.

"I am concerned for your well-being."

"You can come with me, then. But you will not keep me from going in."

Sighing, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a sheet of parchment. "We have another problem, though I think it's really a smaller part of the same evil plot. I received this letter in my room this morning, which is why I was later than expected."

Hermione remembered the last few important letters Draco had received. "It's not from your father, is it?"

"As shocking as it is, no. It's from my mother, who is not on the side of the Death Eaters. I don't want to hear it if you're surprised. You'll have to take my word for it, no questions. The issue is not my mother's loyalties, but what she wrote in this letter." He unfolded it and read, "'Dear Draco, I believe a plot of Voldemort's is coming to execution, though I do not know what it is. Your father has been preparing one of the house's secret rooms to receive some kind of prisoner. I believe that the captives will be animals, nothumans or anything like them. You should not act on this information, but go to the headmaster.'"

"Is that it?" Ron asked when Draco did not say more.

"What more do we need?" Draco responded. "Whatever these animals are, they have something that Voldemort wants badly. I would bet everything I own that it's something powerful."

Had Hermione been eating or drinking anything, she might have choked. He had told her how much he owned earlier that year. It was an obscene amount of anything, let alone money. "I'd have to say I agree with you," she said instead. "The only thing he cares about is power. The question now is what in the forest could be important enough for Voldemort to act upon?"

"All right, Hermione," Draco growled a bit as he spoke. "We get your point. We will accompany you to the forest to inquire of your vampire whether he has any information that could help."

"Erik," Hermione supplied, "is his name. And I'm leaving right now to see him. You should hurry up with that breakfast if you want to come with me."

It irked her that every single one of the boys and even Ginny tacked themselves onto her escort. She did not need company at all, but they all seemed to think that she would get into trouble on her own. Reluctantly, Hermione admitted that it was not unthinkable. She put a hand surreptitiously to the bandage on her neck where Couteau had bitten her.

When she checked that none of the others had seen the movement, she found that Ginny was timing her pace to be a step behind Hermione. She motioned for the younger girl to catch up to her. "Was there something you wanted to say?" she asked, her voice low. She did not feel, at that moment, that she wanted her words to be overheard by all the annoyingly protective men walking along with them.

"I think that they're right," Ginny began. "You shouldn't have hidden this from us. But I also think they're overreacting. You know how boys get. Stupidly overprotective, trying to impress us all the time. Usually I hate it. That's part of the reason I came. I thought you could use some female company among these guys."

"Thanks, Ginny." A moment passed before Hermione wondered, "What's the other reason?"

"I hate being left out of the loop," Ginny replied with a shrug. "If you five are going to find out a crucial part of Voldemort's plan, I want to be there as well. Now that the group has expanded, I'm as much a part of it as Harry himself. It's only fair that I make the discoveries with you."

Hermione had to wait for the right words to come. "I know we left you out a lot earlier on. I'm sorry about that. We never wanted to involve many people, because we knew they would be in danger as well. After Voldemort came back, though, we couldn't be sure that anyone would be safe no matter what we did. When you, Neville, and Luna joined us at the Department of Mysteries… I guess you were automatically in the club, as it were."

"I know all this. You don't have to explain to me. I just hope you realize that it hurt to see you three keeping secrets. I wanted to be important enough to trust. _I_ was the one who was affected directly by Voldemort in my first year of Hogwarts. Who else can say that but Harry?" Ginny pointed out.

"Hermione, are we nearly there?" Ron asked suddenly. They had breached the forest's boundary a while before, and the canopy of branches was thicker here than closer to the outskirts.

Hermione surveyed the area to get her bearings. "We've turned a bit to the left, but yes. Only a few more minutes."

Collectively, they veered to the right and continued, Hermione and Ginny in the lead. In no time, they had reached the clearing to which Erik was bound. Stepping out of the trees, Hermione could feel the relief of the others when they felt the sunlight. She smiled a bit, thinking of how accustomed she was to the darkness of the forest.

The clearing was empty. She could not see Erik anywhere. He must be wary, after being almost attacked by these same boys the day before. Hermione called out, "Erik! Where are you? It's all right, it's me, Hermione."

The woods remained silent. Lacking a response, she began to fear that something fatal, or nearly so, had befallen him. "Erik?" she called again.

"He might not be here, Hermione," Draco said softly, ignoring the fact that Erik was bound to that location, and could not be elsewhere.

"I am here, actually," Erik's voice said. Hermione looked up in time to see him emerge from the trees. She rushed forward to greet him. Her companions stuck close to her side. She glared at them, but they took no heed.

Erik raised his hand to trace the edge of her bandage. She put her hand to her neck, feeling sheepish. "I'm all right. I was worried about you. I thought something had happened…" The look in his eyes made her trail off. There wasa warningin his expression. "What is it?"

Erik kept his eyes on hers, avoiding all the others. He seemed nervous, too stiff, and his breathing was too rushed. He licked his lips to moisten them before speaking. "I smell blood," he said. "Something in the forest has been hurt or killed. This is not ordinary blood. It's powerful, more so than anything I would ever drink."

"When did this start?" Harry asked, sounding worried. Erik did not look away from Hermione as he answered.

"I can't judge exactly, but I believe it was about five hours ago. Before the sun rose, at any rate. I couldn't find anything. It is beyond the range of the spell."

"The spell!" exclaimed Hermione. "Oh, Erik, I'm sorry, I forgot. I came to you yesterday because I figured out how to undo that spell. I didn't have a chance to perform it, but I'm here because of that now."

Ron cleared his throat loudly. Hermione rolled her eyes, but continued anyway. "Also to ask you if you know what Firenze meant when he said 'the innocent ones.' We were trying to discern what the latest evil plan could be, but none of us know what Voldemort is after."

"Vampires do not usually concern themselves with human affairs," he replied.

"Erik, I know that _you_ do. Please?"

He sighed. His eyes closed, and then he finally glanced over Hermione's friends. She felt some of them take a small step backward, but she knew that Draco, at least, remained in place. Erik began to pace, as he had when Hermione had first met him, but more manically. "I think that whatever he was looking for is probably what I've been smelling for the entire morning."

"If the blood is as powerful as you say, I would guess that's so," Draco said.

"Yes," said Erik. "I could lead you to the spot where the blood was spilled. You could probably learn more."

"Oh! Right." Hermione took out her wand. She called the spell to the front of her mind and uttered it, waving her wand as she did. A wisp of blue light shot out of it and passed through Erik. As soon as it did, he took off. Hermione and the rest ran after him, hoping they could keep up.

Hermione shouted breathlessly for Erik to slow down. He was almost out of sight. Luckily, he stopped just before he left her view. She slowed as she came closer to him. He stood motionless, shaking with what she guessed was bloodlust. She reached the spot, halting about a foot to his right. Erik pointed. "There it is."

She stared at the thick silvery liquid as the others gathered around. She caught her breath at last, and spoke. "Oh my god…"

Harry caught her eye. He looked more frightened than she had seen him for a long time. "Unicorn blood. Of course. Unicorns are probably the most powerful creatures you could find here. Why didn't we think of that?"

"I have shown you what I needed to. Now I must go," Erik said. He turned to Hermione, taking her hands in his. Draco, Ron, and Harry all stepped forward, but she held them away with a look of admonition. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Ginny had held onto Blaise. Ignoring them, she met Erik's eyes again. He seemed sad. "You have done more for me than I ever would have asked, Hermione Granger. I will be indebted to you undoubtedlyforthe rest of your years. If you ever meet me again, I will be sure to remember what I owe."

Surprisingly, Hermione felt tears trail down her cheeks. Erik had been kind to her, and a good friend, even if he was a vampire. He wiped her left cheek with his thumb. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, revealing his fangs for one of the exceedingly few times she hadseen them.

"Goodbye, Erik. Good luck."

"Goodbye." He surveyed the entire group one more time, then grinned again. "If you'll excuse me, I must go find an old friend."Erik turned and swept away through the trees, disappearing in an instant. She knew that he would search out Couteau and pay him back.

"Hermione, why are you so upset?"

"I'm not, Ron. Let's concentrate on the problem of the unicorns, all right?"

Draco's expression told her that he wanted to hex something. "That's what they were preparing for at the mansion. They needed a place to put the unicorns once they got them there. I have to go there, now."

"Draco, the letter said to get Dumbledore, not to do anything ourselves. You know what happens when I take things into my own hands," Harry growled. He must have been speaking of Sirius and Dennis.

"I understand, Harry, but we don't have time for that. Whatever they mean for these unicorns, we can't let it happen. Voldemort does not need the power boost, and unicorns are rare enough as it is."

"Do you think they're even still there?" Blaise asked. "It was a few hours ago that they were taken. Maybe they took them to your family's mansion at first, but moved them afterward."

Draco shook his head. "The Malfoy mansion is an incredible hiding place. Remember when I was reading the letter, I said that they were preparing one of the secret rooms? Well, if my mother had known which one, she would have told me. Only Lucius knows the location of all of them. You only find out when you inherit the house. As it is, I know of four of the secret areas of the mansion. There must be nearly twenty, total."

"Then how are we going to find them?" Ron wondered, annoyingly.

"Good point. Maybe we should have kept Hermione's vampire around. He could track their blood for us."

"Erik," Hermione corrected.

"You guys?" Ginny slipped into the conversation suddenly. She had a look of realization that made them all pay attention. "What if they don't intend to keep the unicorns? What if they wanted them for some kind of ritual? They could already have started, or worse, finished. It's been enough time, it seems."

They all stood silent until Draco took out his wand. "What are you doing?" Hermione asked him.

"Making a Portkey. I have to go there and stop them, or at least find out what's going on. Dark rituals tend to take forever with Voldemort, he likes to do all the bits of ceremony. If it involves most of the Death Eaters, you can almost bet they wouldn't be done yet. No matter, we and the unicorns are still in danger. We can't waste any more time."

"Don't even think I'll let you go without me," said Hermione sternly.

"Well, I can't let you come with me," he told her, throwing his hands out.

"Draco." She walked up to him and took him by the shoulders. She forced his deep gray eyes to look straight at hers. "I am concerned for your well-being."

For a moment she thought he would laugh, but he simply nodded. "We're all coming with you," Blaise stated. To Hermione's annoyance, Draco did not argue. He seemed to think it all right for the rest of them to go on dangerous missions, but not her. She should be flattered that he wanted to protect her. Instead she felt belittled.

Draco removed Narcissa's letter from his pocket and muttered the spell to create a Portkey and then slid his wand back up his sleeve. Five hands reached forward to touch the parchment. When they all had a hold on the Portkey, Draco began to count. "Five, four…"

Hermione wondered whether they should not, in fact, find Dumbledore. He would be far more likely to know what to do, and he would not be breaking so many school rules.

"…three, two…"

Draco looked straight at her. In that moment, she knew that once they entered the mansion, they could not turn back. And they would probably end up having to fight.

"One."

The familiar jerk behind her navel came, and Hermione felt herself spin off into nowhere as her heart tried to pound its way out of her chest.

...TBC…


	19. A Long Awaited Triumph

A/N: Every time I read over a chapter I already posted, I find a bunch of words joined together kindof likethis, and some words are just missing entirely. I assume everyone else has noticed things like this… It's incredibly annoying. But that's all I have to say about that. It's a short, mini-rant.

I realize that some readers are probably unhappy that I've left you for so long with that cliffhanger. However, I expect you to get over it now that I'm updating again, and I bet it helps that this chapter is almost 20 pages long.I wanted to be done with this story by the time I go back to Vermont – though it probably won't happen. It's getting very close to the end, believe it or not.

special note to readers: any questions you have about this story should probably be asked now. I think next chapter was going to have an extra-long author's note anyway, so it's a good chance for you.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_A Long-Awaited Triumph_

The Portkey brought them to a fairly large, very dark room. Hermione was about to light her wand when at least fifteen lamps sprang to life. She looked around in alarm, expecting some lurking Death Eaters to come out of hiding. Instead, she saw Draco with his wand out, and relaxed slightly. "Everyone, keep your wands out," he told them. "We have to be careful if we don't want to be caught. And, believe me, we don't."

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

"My bedroom," Draco answered, gesturing toward the enormous four-poster on the other side of the room. "I've put countless spells on it to give me privacy and a way to get out and back quickly. Only one fireplace in the house is connected to the Floo network. I managed to lift the anti-Apparition ward from the room; it covers most of the house, except for Lucius's study."

"What about spells that detect entrance and exits?" Ron wondered. Hermione was surprised that he knew those existed. Draco did not answer at once. It seemed that everyone else was equally surprised. Ron noted their looks. "What? I was bored this year. I started doing Auror-type research. Also, Dad's been filling me in on certain things."

Ginny looked jealous. Blaise looked amused.

"I can't block the spell that Lucius uses that lets him see me leaving and coming in through the door." Draco pointed toward two high doors of polished black wood. "But since I'm not expected to leave any other way, I have a spell that obscures any other comings and goings from detection. Are we all caught up now?"

"We should be looking for the unicorns, anyway," Harry spoke up.

"How are we going to get through the mansion without being seen?" Hermione wondered.

"How about Disillusionment Charms?" Harry suggested. "I didn't think to bring the cloak. Even if I had there's no way we would all fit under it."

"Unfortunately, Disillusionment Charms don't work in the mansion. They sort of make you appear very bright instead. Also, there are detection spells for Disillusionment. There's no way it would work."

"Well then, Draco, what do you suggest?" asked Hermione, feeling an urge to cross her arms and tap her foot in annoyance. He clearly had not thought this through very well.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to do it the old-fashioned way." He gave them all an apologetic look. "We're going to have to be quiet and careful." Every single occupant of the room groaned. Immediately after, there was a round of suppressed chuckling.

"There's another problem," Blaise said. "You said that Lucius can sense when anyone uses your bedroom door. If that's true, forget searching the mansion. How are we going to get out of the room?"

Their faces all fell – except Draco's – and Hermione felt her heart sinking. They would be caught as soon as they moved. Draco did not seem upset. He smirked. "I've already thought of that," he told them, just as a small figure appeared in the room.

"Master Draco!"

"Stubby, please don't be so loud about it," Draco ordered. Hermione pursed her lips. She still could not stand the idea of slavery, even if most house-elves preferred it that way. "I need you to do something for me, Stubby. It will mean using your magic, which I know Lucius forbids. But I'll be giving you a direct order. Will you be able to do this?"

"Stubby thinks so, sir."

"Good. Stubby, I want you to block Lucius's sensor spells from seeing us leave the room. Got it?" The house-elf nodded. "Do it, then."

When they had emerged into the hallway, Stubby looked quite proud of himself. "Good work," Draco said to him. "I order you not to tell Lucius that you've seen us."

"Yes, master. Master, Stubby had to bring food to the unicorns earlier. Stubby can't say where they are, but Stubby knows that they are not planning for anything until at least tomorrow."

Hermione could see her own relief reflected in Draco's face. Stubby scampered off as soon as Draco had thanked him. Thoughtfully, Hermione realized that he did not treat his equivalent-of-a-slave as she would have expected. Then, guiltily, she remembered that she had used her impression of him from a few years ago to reach this conclusion. _Concentration is supposed to be my strong suit_, she berated herself.

"All right," Draco was saying, his voice hushed. "It's possible that you'll see things in the halls that attract you. Ignore them. Stick close together unless I say otherwise. I'm leading. Blaise, I want you in the back. Other than me, you're the only one here who could possibly find a way through this mansion. If we end up having to turn and run, you'll be able to lead the others out."

"You think we'll have to turn and run?" Ginny asked.

Draco shrugged. "There's always the possibility. Harry, I want you to stay close to Hermione. No matter what happens, stick with her. I know you'll protect her."

Hermione felt like shaking him by the shoulders and screaming at him. He was treating her like a child. "I don't need Harry to protect me, Draco. I can take care of myself."

"Now is not the time for this, and you know it," Draco growled. He moved closer, putting his face mere inches from hers. He was nervous. She could see it, though she knew that the others couldn't. Even Blaise did not know him well enough to detect fear. "It's a good idea to have someone watching your back, Hermione. I won't take the risk that something will happen. We don't have any more time to stand around, here. Let's go."

He began to lead them through the mansion, one corridor at a time. All six of them had their wands out, and none made a sound. Each knew the consequences of being caught. Every time Draco stopped to look around a corner, she could feel four people hold their breath. She had to work for her own whenever he held out a hand to halt them, fearing that Lucius Malfoy would appear around a corner at any moment.

Their first destination was disappointing. As they walked down what must have been the fifth corridor of their journey, Draco began to feel underneath the frames of the paintings hanging on the wall. At last he stopped walking, telling them to wait for a moment as he worked the two bottom corners of a picture of a man who must have been Lucius' ancestor. He had the same long, white hair and cold silver eyes.

Just when Hermione thought that Draco was fooling with them, the painting slid down the wall and faded away. Draco pushed on the section of wall and it moved easily, leaving an opening about seven feet tall and wide enough for only one person to walk through at once. "None of you follow me unless I tell you, got it?" With that, he was in the secret room and out of sight.

They waited in silence for Draco's word. A few moments went by before he reappeared. With a tap of his wand he closed the door to the secret room, shaking his head. "It's completely empty. They must be in one of the others."

The second room offered little more than the first. Draco touched the tip of his wand to a specific spot on the door to what he first showed them to be a linen closet to reveal it. "Huh. I didn't think the Malfoy mansion would have a linen closet," Ron commented.

"Well, we've got to keep our linen somewhere," answered Draco quietly as he opened the door. This time, Hermione peeked into the room after Draco entered it. She looked around in shock at the many rows of life-sized human statues. They all seemed to be on the verge of movement. Draco turned to make his way back out, but froze when he spotted her. "You shouldn't be in here, Hermione. Get out."

"What?"

Appearing angry, Draco stalked in her direction and grabbed her by the arm to half-drag her from the room. "That room can do things to you. I don't want you to follow me anywhere in the mansion unless I tell you to."

More slowly than usual, comprehension dawned on her. "Are you saying that those statues were live people?"

"The choice word being 'were'," Draco said. He looked into her eyes apologetically. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

She shook her head. "It doesn't hurt," she lied. His grasp had been rather tight. She tried to recall the strange feeling she had gotten in that room when her gaze had locked on the statues. She found that it was impossible, though it made her shudder inwardly.

The next secret room they tried was located behind a tapestry. Draco enlisted Blaise to hold it aside. Hermione was surprised to see a doorknob in plain view. That could hardly be called secret. It fit more when Draco pulled the doorknob off of the wall and put it back in a spot that seemed entirely random before opening the door.

"Don't follow me in until I've said to," he warned with an extraordinarily wry smile.

Draco had barely been gone a minute when Hermione heard voices and footsteps. She glanced around at the others and knew that they heard it as well. There was no place in that hall to hide. "Draco!" Hermione called, as loudly as she dared. "Someone is coming!"

"Get in here, all of you!"

They all rushed inside; Draco shut the door soundlessly after they were safely hidden. "Everyone be quiet," he commanded. He put his ear to the door. Hermione worked on keeping her breathing silent while they waited. An agonizing moment passed. Abruptly, Draco straightened. "They're approaching the door. Hurry, move into the shadows!"

"Is there any danger?" Ginny wondered glancing into the darkness at the back of the room.

"Only outside," Draco pointed with his wand for emphasis, "this room's empty. Go!"

Two voices grew steadily more distinct. "You're sure that no one knows?" one voice asked.

"Of course," said the second – easily recognizable as Lucius Malfoy. "The unicorns are safely tucked away in one of my secret chambers on the second floor, and will be ready for transport in less than two days. No one will be the wiser that they've been here at all."

"But you said yourself that…"

They heard no more. Lucius and whoever he had been talking to had clearly walked away. Hermione's brain, which had seemed less willing to work than ever that day, now began speed calculations of equations of logic. "I don't understand. They stopped right in front of this room. They wouldn't have unless they had a reason."

"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed. He darted forward and started to feel around on the wall. Confused, the others took a few slow steps out of the depths of the room. All Hermone saw where the door should be was blank wall. "He moved the doorknob back. The room only shows the door on the inside when it's in the proper spot on the outside."

"You mean we're trapped in here?" Harry said.

"Looks like it," said Draco. Lashing out, he hexed the wall. It had no effect. Draco faced them with a resigned face. "Protected by magic."

Ginny grasped at a futile hope. "Maybe he was just checking the door, you think?"

"No." Draco slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. Hermione had never seen him so defeated. "He knows we're here. And now he has us closed in a room to come back for us when the time comes."

"And when do you think that will be?" Ron asked.

"No idea," Draco responded. "Take a guess."

"If we're stuck here, can we at least turn on another light?" Blaise finally spoke up. He had not said a word since leaving Draco's bedroom. Without waiting for an answer, he waved his wand and a musty lantern flared to life above them, giving the room a gloomy light.

"Hey, there's another door," Harry said, pointing.

"Don't get too excited," Draco told them, his voice dead. "It's just a closet."

Hermione took stock of the room. A few unsteady chairs sat against the opposite wall, into which an aperture was cut. It appeared empty. Several piles of boxes were strewn about the room. Otherwise it was unadorned.

"Not much in the way of amenities in here," she said. "Would anyone like a cushion? They're simple enough to conjure."

In a short while, they were all settling onto cushions of various sizes and colors – all except Draco. He was still propped against the wall, not having moved. Sighing, Hermione set her cushion down next to him and settled there. She took his hand, but did not speak.

Suddenly, Draco raised her hand to his cheek and held it there. "This is why I didn't want you to come along."

"Why?"

"If Lucius does anything to harm you – any of you, really – it will be my fault. Right now, I don't see how I can do anything to stop it. He's won, and you're caught in the middle of it because of me."

"No, Draco. Don't think that. You have no bearing on what your father chooses to do. Or what Voldemort demands of him. I'm here because of me. I was never going to let you get into this alone."

"We're both stubborn, aren't we?" Draco laughed.

"Yes, we are." Hermione pushed herself off of her cushion and knelt on the floor in front of Draco. "I want you to promise me that no matter what happens, you will not blame yourself. You can't be responsible for everything. Just ask Harry, he's tried more times than I could count."

Draco stroked her hair, watching his hand instead of her eyes. "I promise."

"Draco-"

"That's all you're going to get from me," he said. "And that's the end of it."

Hermione huffed in irritation. As a Slytherin, he was practiced at lying, but he could not look her in the eyes and tell a falsehood. His promise was as empty as the head of Gregory Goyle.

"Hermione." She looked up at Draco's voice. "Can I have one of those cushions?"

* * *

"Look at them," Blaise prompted. Ginny, assuming that he meant Hermione and Draco, looked. They were laughing over something that had just occurred. In a flash, Hermione had conjured another exquisite cushion. "Even now, without any hope left, they both seem so strong."

"Blaise." Ginny twisted in her position between Blaise's legs to meet his eyes. "You shouldn't say things like that. We always manage to survive."

"This is different. We're trapped in the home of a Dark wizard who just might bring Voldemort down on us at any moment, and no one who could help us even knows that we're here. Tell me, how do you get _hope_ from that?"

"It's never as bad as you think," Ginny said. "Unless Lucius _does_ bring us to Voldemort. Do you think that's what will happen?"

"If Lucius knows that Harry is among our party, there's no other option."

"What if he just takes Harry and leaves the rest of us here to starve?"

Blaise shook his head. "It's unlikely. They'll want us to see Harry die."

Ginny could not bring herself to answer. Blaise must have sensed her discomfort. "I'm not saying without a doubt that Harry's going to die…"

"It's too late. You already said it. There's no way to take it back." Ginny turned herself to make it easier to look at Blaise. "Back when I was younger, I always feared that something would happen to Harry. I had the largest schoolgirl crush I could imagine. I still worry about him sometimes, but do you know who I most fear for?"

"Who?"

"You, Blaise. I fell in love with you. I don't know what that means to you, but for me it means that I spend hours thinking about what my life would be like without you. More than anything, I wish I could stop. Even thinking about it is painful. I need you with me to be happy."

"Please don't say that," he whispered. His left hand stroked Ginny's hair. "No one should rely on me. I couldn't even keep Bianca safe."

"That wasn't your fault." Ginny gasped suddenly. "Bianca!"

"What?" Blaise looked and sounded alarmed.

"She saw when Hermione was in trouble yesterday. You're her brother, she has to know that something's wrong. She's a real seer, a very powerful one. She probably will figure out what is happening, if she hasn't already, and go to Dumbledore for help. We're not totally alone."

"Even if she's already told them, it may be too late by now. Even for Dumbledore it will take a while to get into this mansion. Lucius Malfoy happens to be paranoid enough to have put in place excessive precautions. We might all be dead by the time anyone comes to help."

"You sound so pessimistic."

"I think it's more _real_istic, Gin. Come on, I know who I'm talking about here, and so do you. Death Eaters, Voldemort. They've got Harry Potter in their grasp and aren't likely to let him go. Voldemort's been getting angrier and more determined every time Harry foils him. Opportunities like this one … he's not likely to pass it up."

"So," Ginny said slowly, "you really think there is no hope."

"Hope," repeated Blaise. "What is that but denial? When you live in my world, hope is only a bedtime story."

Ginny closed her eyes in concentration, but she could not think of anything that would make Blaise feel better. Instead, she made a decision. "Help me up, Blaise. We're going into that closet."

Blaise stood and pulled her to her feet. "What for?"

"We'll probably need the cushions too," said Ginny, gathering hers into her arms.

"Ginny, what is going on?"

"Remember what we did last week?"

"Four times in a row? Yes."

"I want this to be more memorable than that was."

Blaise was stunned. "Ginny, here? Now? You have to be joking."

"It's no joke, my lover. You're right. There's a chance that even Bianca's vision won't help us in time. If this really is the end, I want to make one good thing come out of it. I don't have any doubts about you, and I certainly don't care what the others think. Of course, since we know where _I_ stand, it's your decision."

Blaise picked up his black-and-red striped cushion, courtesy of Hermione, clasped her hand, and tugged her to the closet door. Once they were inside, they threw down the pillows and set on each other. Ginny had his shirt off in mere seconds. He was just starting on hers when he pulled his face away from her neck and spoke.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," Ginny breathed. The moment the word was out of her mouth, Blaise laid her down on the cushions. They had a goal and there was no time to waste.

* * *

Bianca was in the middle of a potions text when she looked up. It was just after two in the afternoon. Her lunch had settled by then, and she and Pansy were continuing with their work. The Slytherin common room appeared the same as always. But there was a problem.

She had been reading about a potion that would make everything the person who took it ate taste like chocolate. The picture in her mind had switched momentarily from a chocolate feast in every shape and color to a vision of her brother and his friends, trapped in the Malfoy mansion, at the mercy of Voldemort and his followers. Bianca quietly closed the book, stood, and left the common room.

At the end of the hall, Pansy caught up with her. "Bianca, where are you going?" she asked. "You were supposed to stay with me until Blaise came back."

"He won't be back anytime soon," Bianca answered. "Do you know where Dumbledore's office is?"

"Yes, I can show you where. Why do you want-?"

Bianca glanced up at Pansy briefly, noting her look of realization. "I need to see Dumbledore."

"Did you have a vision, Bianca?" Pansy inquired. "Blaise told me about your ability. I know you're a seer. You don't usually give prophecy, you see visions, right? And that happened just now."

Bianca nodded. "I have to tell Dumbledore what I saw."

"Okay. This way, hurry."

Bianca had been in the headmaster's office before, but all she had seen on the way was her father, coming toward her. She could not see what was in his hand, but she had known that it was bad. Instead of waiting, she had shut her eyes and clung to Blaise. She could not possibly remember how to reach his office from that experience.

They were rushing toward a gargoyle. Pansy told it, "Exploding Sugar Quill," and it began to turn. A moment later, Bianca and Pansy approached the door to the headmaster's office. Pansy knocked. The door fell open, and they stepped inside to Dumbledore's gentle voice.

"Miss Parkinson. Miss Zabini. Is there anything you would like to tell me?"

"My brother is not here, Professor," Bianca began. "He's not in the castle."

"He might be out on the grounds with his friends."

"He's with all of them," said Bianca. "Draco, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron. All of them are together. But they're not on the grounds."

"Where do you believe they are, Miss Zabini?" Dumbledore asked patiently.

"I don't _believe_," Bianca answered, less patiently. "I saw it."

"Very well. Where are they?"

Bianca looked at the perch near Dumbledore's desk, where a very old-looking bird sat. It looked as though it were about to die, actually. "Malfoy Manor."

No sooner had the words escaped her lips than Dumbledore set to work.

* * *

For a whole hour, the entire room was silent. As strange as it was, as heart-wracking, to be trapped in his own house, the peace of it was incredible. With his eyes closed, the only thing Draco sensed was Hermione, sitting beside him with her hand grasping his. He could imagine that they were in one of their dorm rooms at Hogwarts, far away from the danger of Lucius. He could imagine that the two of them were alone and safe.

"How long has it been now since Ginny and Blaise disappeared?" Harry asked. He had chosen a spot near them a while before. His voice came from the right. Draco shifted his head slightly and opened one eye. "I mean, what do you think they're doing in there?"

"Come now, Harry. We all know what they're doing in there," Draco said with a smirk.

"There's no need to be crude, Draco."

"Hermione, that's not crude. It's logic." All the others were staring at him in utter lack of comprehension. "I shouldn't even have to explain this, but what the hell. I hate to say it, but there is a high probability of death in our situation. No matter what we're capable of or who might be coming to help us. I know exactly where we are. Lucius has this place set up for Voldemort's type. Ginny and Blaise might never get another chance to be together. What else would you expect?"

Hermione was leaning toward him. "Maybe we should take a turn after they're out," she whispered.

Draco snickered. "You've become such a minx, my love."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Hermione, just being next to you is enough. At the end of all this, we can do anything we want. For now, I don't want that kind of distraction. I…I tend to get lost in you."

"If Katie was here-" Harry muttered.

"Don't finish that sentence, Potter," Draco grumbled. "It's bad enough that you beat me to the bed. No need to hash out the details."

"Why, Draco, I thought you were over that," said Harry, adopting an innocent tone.

Draco resolved to ignore him from that point. Hermione, he could tell without looking, was rolling her eyes. They might have returned to the previous quiet, but Ron chose that moment to approach the three of them from his spot across the room. "I know we're essentially prisoners right now," he said, after lowering himself in front of them, "but don't you think we should be making some kind of plan? We're just waiting for someone to come for us. It's not proactive behavior, really."

"You sound so scholarly all of a sudden, Ron," Hermione said.

"Let's put aside the fact that I have a vocabulary." Ron sighed. "We really should have a plan."

"What plan?" Draco cut in, his voice more scathing than he intended. "I would genuinely like to hear what you have in mind."

"Nothing whatsoever," replied Ron. He crossed his arms defensively.

"Exactly. How can we possibly make a plan when we can't guess what is going to happen?" Draco shook his head. "Lucius might intend to kill us in this room, without ever opening the door. He might be keeping us here until it is time to transport us to South Africa. Who knows? Voldemort will want you dead, Harry, we all know this. What about the rest of us? None of us are Death Eaters, and therefore we are not in on their evil schemes. I would love to escape, personally. There's no way to do that from this room."

"He's right," added Harry. "We aren't sure what to fight against. Most of the time we never had a plan, remember? We did what we had to do, and usually went in unprepared. That's how Sirius and Dennis died. We rushed into things – I mean, _I_ did."

"We all act without thinking at times, Harry," Hermione said in a murmur, reaching out a placating hand to Harry's shoulder.

"The way we get through these things is always by whatever skill we have and an unholy amount of luck." He laughed mirthlessly. He did not seem aware of Hermione's hand. "Maybe this time I'll be the one who pays the price, instead of someone who never deserved it."

"You don't either, Harry," Ron told him.

Harry ignored him as well. "It would be better. I've watched enough people die. I saw my parents murdered in front of me when I was one year old. I can't really remember it, but even that was my fault. It would be right if this is finally my turn."

_What can we possibly say to him?_ thought Draco. He was no good at comforting; it seemed that Harry was beyond their words, anyway. It was pointless. And if his suspicions were correct, they would all come face to face with Voldemort soon enough. He tightened his grip on Hermione's hand. She returned the squeeze.

Without warning, the closet door opened. Blaise and Ginny stumbled out, looking quite disoriented. "Sorry," Blaise said sheepishly. Draco knew that he would be blushing if he ever did. "We fell asleep a while ago."

"I forgot where we were for a moment," Ginny admitted. "Remembering was not pleasant."

"Harry decided to tell us just now that he's hoping to die by the end of this," Ron deadpanned.

"That's not what I said."

"Isn't it?" shot back Draco. It was not his habit to get involved in the arguments of Gryffindors, but many things seemed to be changing.

"No," insisted Harry. "I was only saying that I'd rather it were me than any one of you."

Ginny shushed them suddenly. She pulled something that looked like flesh-colored string out of her ear, and tugged on the other end. It retreated from under the rather non-existent doorway. She stuffed it back into her pocket.

"You have an Extendable Ear with you?" Ron exclaimed.

"What's an Extendable Ear?" asked Draco.

"An invention of Fred and George, our brothers."

"The twins. Right."

"Will you please be quiet?"

"Ginny, what is it?"

"Someone is coming."

Those who had been sitting quickly pushed themselves to their feet. In seconds, the door opened. The presence that they had all been expecting stood blocking the route to the hall. His wand hung by his side, held in his right hand. His smile was even colder than his eyes. He took a few steps into the room.

Lucius's eyes settled on Draco. "I wasn't expecting you back until the _end_ of the school year," he said with false surprise.

Draco scowled. "Lucius."

His heart pounded as he watched his father fix each of his friends with an emotionless stare. He could only guess what Lucius had in store for them, but he preferred not to. Especially in Hermione's case. Though Harry would probably suffer a worse fate, Draco had a slightly different relationship with Hermione.

Draco would have expected Lucius to begin taunting them all immediately. Instead, aside from the dread-inspiring gaze, he ignored all but Draco. He pasted on a smile as he approached his son. "Let's talk, Draco," he said, placing his arm around Draco's shoulders.

That touch, the first physical contact he had ever experienced with his father, froze his blood. From most the gesture would have been friendly enough, but Lucius made sure to add a threat to it somehow. Draco could not help stiffening, despite his wish not to reveal any fear to Lucius. "It was not your best decision, bringing your friends here with you. You may very well have killed them all."

"It was their decision to come," he hissed back. "And if any of them are killed it won't be by my hand."

"No?" The question was clear, as though Lucius was surprised to hear Draco's certainty. A voice in Draco's head whispered _Imperius Curse_. Draco met his father's eyes with a look of pure hate. Strangely, this caused Lucius to grin. "We will see what you will or will not do by the end of this."

"We're not going to abandon our reason for being here so easily."

"Ah, yes. The unicorns. Let me tell you something, Draco. I knew that the great Harry Potter would lose no time in coming after those poor creatures. I made sure that the house-elf you seem so attached to would tell you all he knew. I tracked your every move when you left your bedroom, and I waited until you had entered this room to come near you. I had not been quite sure, until you showed up this morning, that you would be among the unicorns' rescue party. I am glad you were; now you can stand helplessly by while your wand tortures and kills your friends."

Lucius shook something next to Draco's eye – it was his wand, which Lucius had somehow taken without him seeing. The next instant, it was gone. "One of these days, everything you have done will seek to repay you," Draco said in a low growl.

"Threats mean nothing when you are cornered," Lucius returned, releasing him. Draco unconsciously stumbled back a few feet. Standing so close to his father had given him the coldest feeling of his life.

"What did he say?" Harry asked, deliberately avoiding Lucius.

Draco narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare at Lucius. He wanted a hint of a slip, an accidental twitch. Anything that he could use against Lucius would have been welcome. The hard, handsome face was unyielding. Draco simply told Harry, "Nothing we didn't already know."

"Draco." Lucius's voice had changed again, now just barely approaching the kind patience of Dumbledore. "My guests need better accommodations than this horrid room. Lead them to the main ballroom, won't you? You know the way. My colleagues will escort you."

Draco locked his jaw to keep from retorting with a damning comment. He nodded to his friends to follow him and stepped into the corridor. Someone was right on his heels, closely trailed by a light touch on his arm. He reached down and took Hermione's hand, but only for a moment. He did not want their closeness to appear too evident to Lucius.

The colleagues he had referred to were, of course, Death Eaters. Each was fully robed and masked. The first Draco passed held a bundle of wands in one hand. Six, to be exact. He saw the man slip the wands into his robe pocket and took special note of him. The masks were worn for anonymity, but Draco guessed from the man's build and carriage that he was Blaise's father. He glanced over his shoulder at Blaise, who set his lips in a tight line in response. His guess had been correct.

_So all our wands have been confiscated and we're surrounded by the bad guys with no help in sight. That's not so bad. _A different line of thought interrupted. His father had been ambiguous about Draco's role in his plan. Was he going to force Draco to perform spells against his friends, or simply use Draco's wand to do it himself?

Draco very much hated Lucius at that point.

The ballroom had been recently cleaned. The black marble of the floor and enormous staircase gleamed under the menacing light of the twelve chandeliers. He recalled a description of this very ballroom that he had once read, and a miniscule, breathy laugh escaped him. Marcus Malfoy's version had long been replaced with this lavish but dark decoration. Black velvet curtains covered the numerous tall, narrow windows, blocking out all outside light. It occurred to Draco that he had no idea what time it was. He looked briefly at the grand clock against the wall opposite the huge hearth, which was the only spot of white in the room. The clock's hands revealed almost five o'clock in the evening. Unless anyone there had missed them, the population of Hogwarts would soon be at dinner.

"That is the perfect place. Stop, Draco." He estimated about twenty feet to the staircase. He turned to survey the rest of the group, whom he had been leading. Lucius waved a hand toward the Death Eaters. Before Draco had time to be alarmed, the others had been surrounded by Voldemort's followers with their wands at the ready. Draco was seized and dragged closer to the staircase. He knew better than to fight so many without a wand. There was no need, anyhow; they released him once he was in the desired position. Three Eaters stayed close to him, acting as a guard.

"I feel so honored," muttered Draco. "Special treatment."

"That attitude of yours is what gets you in trouble, son."

Draco thought it was more that his father was the worst kind of git, but he decided to hold his tongue. The thought amused him, though, and he knew it showed on his face when he chanced a look at his friends. Hermione reacted badly to his mirth, so he schooled it from his face. He inwardly berated himself. He knew better than to let his emotions be so obvious.

Lucius did not speak for several minutes. Draco would have expected this to be a relief, but the silence that resulted made his spine itch. They were clearly there to wait, and he had a good idea of what was coming.

He was proven correct when footsteps sounded on the landing above them. Every face – the Death Eaters, Draco, Harry, Lucius – watched as Voldemort descended the stairs, followed by four masked and robed figures. He stopped on the fifth step and surveyed the captives with a triumphant grin. Lucius moved closer and bowed.

"My Lord Voldemort," he greeted his master.

"Good evening, Lucius. You have done well." Strangely enough, the sentence seemed unfinished. Draco could feel unexpected apprehension from Lucius as he moved to stand next to his son.

"And here is the Magnificent Harry Potter," Voldemort rasped. He beckoned with two long fingers. Two of the Death Eaters took Harry by the arms and propelled him toward the base of the stairs. Draco tried to catch Harry's gaze, but his eyes were locked on Voldemort. He guessed that Harry did not want to be caught off guard.

"How have you been, Voldemort?" Harry asked, nearly spitting.

Voldemort laughed hoarsely, a spine-chilling sound. "Quite well."

"Pity," Harry responded.

"Harry Potter." Voldemort did not move from his lofty perch on the fifth step, but he looked to be considering it. "I do not enjoy counting how many times I have had you in my grasp and not had the satisfaction of killing you. Be sure that I will remedy this problem. You will not leave this room alive."

"Someone should teach you not to make promises you can't keep," Harry told him, and this time he did spit. The glob of saliva landed just beyond the hem of Voldemort's robe.

The pale, evil face grew solemn. "I am not taught," he proclaimed. "No one would presume so much. Perhaps I should teach _you_ a few things before I … but no. I will not make the mistake of giving you the chance to escape."

Voldemort then turned his face to Draco. "And you, the son of Lucius Malfoy, who has served me…faithfully. You had the chance to be a part of the greatest movement the world has ever seen. It would not have taken you long to rise through the ranks of my servants. You have made some unfortunate choices recently, but if you were to renounce your new _friends_," he said the word as though it left a bad taste on his tongue, "these decisions would not be held against you. You may still serve me. This will be your last opportunity to do so."

Draco kept his disdain carefully out of his expression. "Save your breath," he told Voldemort flatly.

"You disappoint me, Draco Malfoy, as well as your father. Ah, well. By the end of today, neither of us will think on you any longer." Voldemort gestured to Lucius, who turned to take care of some task. Draco missed it; he had noticed Harry casting glances his way. He was undoubtedly asking a question, and Draco thought that he knew what it was.

As carefully as he could, in as small a gesture, he shook his head and mouthed, "Wait." He wanted Voldemort or Lucius to make a move before they took action. He hoped that Harry understood. It seemed that he did. He nodded slightly and looked to Voldemort. The Death Eaters that had attached themselves to his arms had not noticed their communication.

Whatever they were planning, it was bound to happen within a few moments. Before anyone could strike, however, the sound of a door opening came from the far wall, followed by a pleasant, surprised voice asking, "Lucius, what is going on here?"

Draco saw what happened next in slow motion. His mother, having just entered, halted with the door standing wide open behind her. Lucius spotted her and sneering, "Narcissa," he raised his wand. The strange dream Draco had experienced so many months before flashed through his mind. In his head he saw the flash of green light and Narcissa falling to the ground, overlaid on the flickering image of dead bodies strewn about the ballroom. Lucius remained locked in the process of raising his wand as Draco scanned a list of possible reactions. He made his decision without realizing it.

Never in his life had Draco wanted anything more. He did not need to know how; he simply needed to need it, and Lucius' wand was ripped from his grasp into Draco's outstretched, waiting hand.

The room seemed to freeze, the Death Eaters' plans interrupted by this unexpected act of resistance. They were eyeing him strangely, plainly expecting him to take drastic measures. Draco stared at Lucius from the moment he gained the wand, not daring to be caught off guard. "Draco – son, return my-"

"Shut up, _father_," Draco told him, leaving no room for questions. Still watching Lucius intently, he instructed, "Mother, I need you to go to Dumbledore. Tell him what is happening, where we are. The Order of the Phoenix must be alerted."

"Draco, I'm not sure about this. I don't want to leave you here."

"Please, Mother. If you don't go now, it may be too late."

Without seeing, he knew that Narcissa had given him a wistful look of agreement before turning on her heel and sprinting back through the door whence she had come. Draco was on the verge of breathing a sigh of relief when the same cold laugh issued from the stairs. A quick glance showed amusement on Voldemort's countenance before he resumed the careful watching of Lucius.

"Master, do you intend to let this ungrateful miscreant disrupt your plans?" Lucius asked. The question sounded more like a plea. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry jerk in the hold of Voldemort's servants. He, too, was itching to use the wand in his hand, but he prayed that Harry had the patience to wait for the opportune moment.

"I would never wish to interrupt a family argument, Lucius," Voldemort said. A few of the Death Eaters cackled.

Lucius faced Draco determinedly. "Now, son. I know you don't want to do anything in haste. Your actions can cause regret and pain later on, you know."

"You'd know all about that wouldn't you?" said Draco scathingly. "Of course, any pain you cause has always been intentional. And why are you _addressing_ me now, Lucius? You've never called me 'son' in my life. You barely ever use my name. What is it, Lucius, that you're afraid of? You didn't want to grow too used to it, in case Voldemort demanded that you hand me over to him, sacrifice me. I'm right, eh? You've seen the kind of thing he demands, and you decided to remain as far from me as possible."

"He is much quicker than you always said, Lucius," Voldemort interjected. "You underestimated his skill. Or else you never wanted me to know." This last sentence held an ominous, harsh tone.

"If Voldemort had commanded it, you would have given him my life without hesitation. You know… I never have thanked you properly for everything you've done, Lucius. I'm glad I have the chance now." He had been holding Lucius' wand pointed directly and steadily at his father. When he finished speaking, he advanced, taking slow steps closer to the man he loathed more than anyone in the world.

Behind him, a desperate whisper escaped in the form of his name. Hermione was there, she was begging him not to do something that he would regret – but he knew what he was doing. Draco had imagined this moment hundreds of times since being trapped in the secret chamber. Each time he pictured it, the act had grown more appealing to him. Now that he was this close, he could only carry it out.

Lucius' eyes followed the wand in Draco's left hand closely. The fist that was Draco's right hand collided with his face, connecting just under his eye. Several gasps sounded between the punch and the moment that Draco tackled Lucius to the ground, lashing out with every limb. Lucius, after the shock of the first hit had worn off, began to fight back. They struggled on the ballroom floor.

A shout echoed in his ears in a voice that he dimly recognized as Hermione's. Everything but Lucius was hazy, a blur of chaos. The others had begun fighting as well. Flashes of light and explosions occurred at the edge of Draco's awareness, but he ignored them – even when the lights flashed in an unmistakable green.

Lucius' knee found Draco's stomach, driving the wind from him, but Draco responded with an elbow to Lucius' throat, which hit its mark with surprising power. Draco got in several more hard blows before Lucius knelt on his right arm, pinning him for the moment.

Draco would have expected his father to use the opportunity to break his concentration with taunting, but instead he attempted to separate Draco's arm from his body by pure force. Draco had no other choice. He reached up, tangled his fingers in Lucius' long white hair, and tugged as hard as he could. With a grunt, Lucius toppled over, releasing Draco.

Their primitive version of a duel continued for quite some time. In the most vague manner, Draco noted the arrival of a surprising number of witches and wizards just as he landed another hit to Lucius' chin. Seconds later, Lucius ceased attacking. He squirmed to extricate himself from Draco's offensive instead. It took him not long to succeed, and he bolted up the ballroom stairs. Though the urge to follow him and continue pummeling was great, Draco resisted.

As though in a dream, his eyesight swam back into focus just in time to see Voldemort and several of the Death Eaters disappearing into the mansion. Numerous wizards and three witches (all of whom may or may not have been from the Ministry) rushed after them. All of these had disappeared before it occurred to Draco to take stock of the room.

There were a number of people in the ballroom who had not been present earlier. He recognized some of them: Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin, his cousin Nymphadora Tonks. Others were utter strangers.

A collection of incapacitated Death Eaters lay in stillness on the floor. Draco suspected that more than one of them were dead, but he knew that he may be thinking wishfully.

Hermione, who seemed to have been searching the room for him as well, was approaching him when he spotted her, wand in hand. She must have gotten it back while he was fighting Lucius.

They were in the midst of a hug of relief when Ginny screamed in agony. Hermione and Draco both turned toward the sound with dread. The knowledge of what had happened struck him like lightning made of solid steel. Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. Draco felt an expression with which he was utterly unfamiliar, though he guessed (correctly so) that it was grief.

"No," he whispered. "No."

Ginny was now sobbing, and Hermione was quickly catching up, as they all stared at the lifeless, dark-haired form with its eyes fixed on the ceiling.

…TBC…


	20. A Little More Pain

A/N: After many long weeks of toil, I have finally finished writing this (second to) last chapter of my story. I will probably say this next time, but thank you, readers, you are the only thing that really gives writing meaning. What would be the point if no one read it but me? I can tell you, I would not have written this, were that the case.

Certain parts of this chapter were much more difficult than others, and so obviously there are sections that I am unhappy with. Hopefully, you won't be able to tell which; that means I've done my job right. At least I figured out how to end this chapter… it was bugging me for a while.

If you have any questions about this story, I suggest you ask them now. It's your last chance… (well, not really. If you're smart enough to look at my profile, you can get my email and ask your questions that way.) But I may be able to address certain questions in the writing of the next chapter. Now, forward march!

* * *

The Negative Side

_

* * *

_

_A Little More Pain_

Ginny's second scream was worse. The first had been simple shock. This one came from a place deep in the soul, a wound that had been rent by the loss of someone she deeply loved. Hermione could feel the sound of it resonating throughout the room, throughout her body. It caused her knees to buckle and her eyes roll back into her head momentarily. Otherwise, there was total silence.

Hermione did not realize right away that Draco's arms were not around her. He was not comforting her, and she could not fathom why. When she had recovered from the effects of Ginny's scream, she made herself look at him. He stood a few feet away, his face twisted in pain but his eyes blank with shock.

"Not again," a voice said to her right. She looked for the source of it and found Harry shaking his head. He had shut his eyes against the sight of Ginny grasping at the lifeless body that had been Blaise.

Finally, Hermione noticed that there were others in the room. Narcissa Malfoy, the benevolent mother of Draco, hovered between Remus Lupin and her son. Tonks seemed to be checking the bodies of Death Eaters for pulses using a spell that made the tip of her wand light up red.

Feeling a presence that comforted her slightly, Hermione looked toward the stairs. Dumbledore descended, a sympathetically sad look on his face. "Voldemort and his followers are gone. I'm afraid I could not follow them. Narcissa, please call the Ministry and tell them that there are a number of incapacitated Death Eaters in your ballroom. They will remove them."

"Yes, Albus," Narcissa answered. She exited, supposedly making for the Floo hearth. Draco watched his mother leave.

"Ennervate!" a calm, deep voice proclaimed, and when Hermione turned to see who was being revived, a dazed Ron was just sitting up. He allowed the wizard to help him up, but waved his arms away once he was standing. Without delay, he scanned the ballroom, taking in the unconscious or dead Death Eaters on the floor, the familiar faces who seemed to be all right.

Ron was visibly thankful when he laid eyes on Harry and Hermione, alive and well. He could not see Ginny or Blaise from where he stood. With an expression of fear, he followed the sound of sobbing until he was level with Harry. He observed his sister weeping over Blaise for a moment, his face showing mingled relief and empathy. Slowly, he walked toward them. He reached out to place his hand on Ginny's shoulder. She twitched a bit, but showed no other sign that she had noticed. Ron knelt behind her.

"Ginny," he began. "I'm sorry. Please, don't cry."

Ron did not understand that crying was the only thing Ginny _could_ do for Blaise.

"We have to go back to Hogwarts, Ginny. Come on. I won't leave you, but you have to come with me."

"I'm not leaving him, Ron." Ginny's voice was laden with tears, both fallen and unshed. "Unless someone is going to bring Blaise back to Hogwarts with us, I won't go."

"Ginny, look at me," Ron told her. She refused. She stroked back Blaise's hair from his forehead. Her face crinkled and new tears flowed. "Don't do this, Gin. It's not going to help. Dumbledore is going to take us back to the school, we have to go."

"He would stay with me," said Ginny desperately. "I have to do the same."

"He's not there, Ginny," Harry said quietly. She looked up at last, facing Harry. "It's not him anymore. He's not there."

This seemed to awaken a new pain within Ginny. She collapsed against her brother, who held her as she sobbed. As she let out these fresh tears, Draco finally reached for Hermione. She looked away from Ginny reluctantly to find that Draco was offering her his hand. He lifted her from the floor and enfolded her in an embrace that was more for him than for her.

At last, Ginny's weeping subsided. She gazed at Blaise a moment longer. She looked tired and emptied. With a sigh, she leaned over him to kiss his still-warm lips. Then she stood. "I'm ready," she said simply.

"Very well." It was Dumbledore who spoke. He held out a scrap of curtain to them – it must have been torn off in the fight. "This Portkey will take you all directly to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey will check you for damage and take care of you. In the morning, once you've rested, I will ask you all for your accounts of what took place here."

They gathered around the Portkey, each making sure they were touching it before it activated. As it started to transport them back to Hogwarts, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny were staring at Blaise. Ron was watching his sister closely. Harry eyes looked in the opposite direction of Blaise – he was deliberately avoiding the sight of him.

Madame Pomfrey bustled out of her office the moment they landed in the middle of the hospital wing. No other students were present. Madame Pomfrey brandished her wand at them and said, "Dumbledore's sent me a note ahead, I already know. Everyone take a bed, I'll get to you when I get to you."

Each of them sat on consecutive beds and waited in silence as Madame Pomfrey hovered between them, administering potions and spells. When she reached Hermione, she ran her wand over her, harrumphed, handed her several potions and told her to lie down. Hermione did as she was asked robotically. She almost felt like she was floating above herself but hiding at the same time. It was the part of her that comprehended and questioned things that had left her. She knew that by all rights Draco should be next to her, but he was not, and she ignored it. She slid between the blankets of the bed – she felt quite cold – and fell asleep at once.

* * *

Voldemort and his followers had retreated to one of their many secret gathering places. Lucius stood motionless amid the small crowd below Voldemort's chair. The others were all talking – or, more accurately, grumbling – about their defeat at the Malfoy mansion. Many of them cast disgusted glances at Lucius while muttering that he should have had better precautions in place against such an uprising. Lucius glared in no particular direction as he listened to their criticisms.

Only Zabini did not comment on the night's backfired plan; he was stoic in his exceeding smugness instead.

"Lucius," Voldemort spoke suddenly. Not only Lucius but all of the Death Eaters turned to their Dark Lord at the sound of his voice. Voldemort raised a hand lazily and beckoned. "Come before me."

Silence engulfed the room as Lucius approached. He knelt before his master in the makeshift throne. He began to stand, but Voldemort said, "I did not tell you to rise."

Lucius did not flinch visibly, but his heart faltered for a moment. Voldemort was obviously displeased with him, and it was no wonder – everyone seemed to be blaming him for the fiasco that had begun with Draco. Lucius bowed lower. Voldemort contemplated the top of Lucius' head for several minutes with just the hint of a menacing smile while Lucius stared at the floor in front of Voldemort's feet.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" the Dark wizard asked. Instead of breaking the tension, the question increased it.

Chancing a glanced up, Lucius responded, "My Lord, forgive me. I should have anticipated a problem like this."

"You might have anticipated that I was unhappy, Lucius, and attempted to run." Several Death Eaters snickered in the background. Both Lucius and Voldemort ignored then. "Six children, and you could not even manage to keep them from causing trouble."

"My Lord, when my son attacked me, you could easily have stopped him. I hardly saw you use any spells during the confrontation-"

"Do you dare to suggest that Harry Potter's escape was _my_ doing!"

"No, Master, of course not. I was merely wondering why you did not immediately use the Killing Curse on the boy." Lucius had concocted this excuse from midair.

"That was quite transparent, Lucius. I am a bit disappointed." Voldemort sat back with a twisted imitation of a smile. "Yet I will answer. As to Harry Potter, I admit that I enjoy gloating once I have him in my grasp. To simply kill him would not be as satisfying."

Lucius imagined that it would be more satisfying than being continuously foiled, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I did nothing against your son because he was not my responsibility," Voldemort said. "You let him get out of hand, and I must say it was entertaining to witness him pummeling you. And there is still another reason why I did not help you. This is that I did not deem you worthy of my help."

Lucius swallowed; he tried to keep it inaudible. "My Lord," he began tentatively. "I have always been loyal to you. From the very beginning I have never dreamed of anything but serving you. No other fate could be desirable, master. You must know that I never faltered in my faith."

Voldemort stroked his chin as he pretended to consider Lucius' words. "It's true that when I first began to gain power, you were more valuable to me than any other follower. Your finances, knowledge of Dark Arts, and willingness to perform them put you at my right hand. Yes, Lucius, I know how well you did for me."

The relief Lucius felt did not last long.

"In those years, I had no need to turn to anyone else. However, recently it seems that you do not bring anything but failure. Not only by feigning innocence when I had disappeared, but from the moment you planted my Horcrux on that girl in an attempt to open the Chamber of Secrets, it seems that nothing you try has succeeded. The old Lucius was a priceless asset. You, I have no use for."

Lucius's eyes widened as Voldemort raised his wand with malicious glee. No one relished killing more than he. "Avada Kedavra!" came the voice, and the light came green, and Lucius was dead.

The Death Eaters had laughed when they were sure that Lucius was getting a strong set of the Cruciatus. Looking at his shocked, lifeless face gave them pause. If Voldemort would murder Lucius without thinking twice, what did that mean for the rest of them?

Voldemort put their fears into words as though they had asked aloud. "I want a foolproof plan out of someone soon, or you will receive the same." He emphasized his words with a threatening wand movement. With a sneer, he swept out of the room.

The Death Eaters did not need to ask exactly whom he had meant by "you".

* * *

Hermione would have been horrified with herself, had she been herself. It was the second class of the day and she had not managed to pay attention in either. She brought herself out of her uncharacteristic reverie to copy down the homework. Lupin dismissed the class and she began to pack her things.

"Hermione, could I have a word with you?" he asked.

Draco was at her side in seconds. She attempted to smile up at him. "Go ahead," she said to him and Harry. "I'll catch up at lunch."

She saw Ron pause at the door, but he did not wait long. As soon as Harry and Draco had reached the doorway, the three of them exited. Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and approached Lupin's desk.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said automatically. "I don't know why I can't focus today."

"Hermione," Lupin interjected. "I'm not going to reprimand you. I completely understand. You and Blaise grew close this year. Yes, I noticed. I'm amazed that you even came to class today."

Hermione nodded but said nothing. Her throat felt tight. Lupin continued.

"If your work is a little less excellent than usual for a while, Hermione, I will not hold it against you. I wanted to speak with you about the remaining partner assignments. I would not expect you to do them alone. Under the circumstances, I would like you to attach yourself to one of the existing pairs. A group of three will be fine."

Hermione cleared her throat surreptitiously. "I think I'll work with Harry and Draco, if that's all right."

"That will be fine." The professor reached a hand up to rest it on her shoulder comfortingly. "You've been standing this with incredible strength. I'm proud of you. All of you – Draco, Harry, especially Ginny. I know you were all close to Blaise."

Hermione was almost angered by his words, until she remembered that he had lost all of his best friends from school, one way or another. Suddenly, she felt a burst of sadness for him, and was able to smile sympathetically. He probably did not realize the manner of it, but he seemed glad for her smile all the same.

Out in the hall, Draco was waiting for her. "Don't say anything," she told him. "I know you were listening." They linked hands as they made their way to the Great Hall. They had spoken less in the few days since they had lost Blaise, and touched more.

Draco sat with Hermione at the Gryffindor table, where they all picked at their food for a while, hardly eating a bite. Ginny stared into her goblet of pumpkin juice as though it might answer her hardest questions. Hermione tried to think of a conversation topic, something to keep them busy, but she did not want to talk any more than the others. A distraction arrived about halfway through lunch and sat with them; Fred next to Ginny, George right across the table, next to Hermione.

"We heard what happened," Fred said bluntly. They never were exactly delicate around difficult subjects. He put an arm around Ginny's shoulders, almost casually. "Ron owled us. We had to make arrangements to close the shop before we came up here."

"We had a hell of a time getting here, too," George put in. "The Hogwarts' Express doesn't run often during term, and they had elevated security between Hogsmeade and the school. Guess Dumbledore's being a bit cautious, isn't he?"

"Hi, boys," Ginny said once her brother had stopped talking. She finally took a bite of food, Hermione noted with relief. Ginny was eating less than any of them lately.

Fred cleared his throat and stated, "We've got a gift for you, Ginny." He gestured to his twin, who presented a box from under his coat. It was unrealistic that it would have fit there, but Hermione knew enough about magic by then not to be surprised. She peered at the writing on the box and saw that it was one of the twins' daydream spells.

Ginny gazed at the gift with her eyes teary. No one spoke for a moment. Just as Fred had done, George cleared his throat. "We just thought… if you wanted to see him again." He ended flatly, and Hermione turned her head to look at him. She saw in his face a grimness she could only remember seeing when Arthur Weasley had been in the hospital, nearly dead with snake venom. He caught her looking and winked; the glimpse of seriousness had passed.

"Thank you," Ginny said suddenly. She took the box in her hands and stood. "You know, I don't think I'm going to eat any more. I'll be in my room, if anyone wants me." She walked off. Hermione wanted to follow her and comfort her, but knew that it would be useless.

When Ginny had left, Fred and George leaned in. "We didn't want to talk about this much when she was here," George said quietly. "What exactly happened? Ron didn't give us all the details, just the basic stuff. He told us that you were friends with Zabini and Malfoy, and that something had happened at the Malfoy mansion. But he didn't tell us everything. Did you, Ronnie?"

Ron had spotted Fred and George and approached them. He took a seat next to Harry. "If I'd put everything in that letter, Pig wouldn't have been able to carry it."

"Why didn't you use a school owl, then?" Fred pointed out. Ron shrugged.

Taking turns, the four of them unwound the story. It had gone much the same when they had told Dumbledore. They had all filled in the parts they knew, until the details had been exhausted. Minutes passed and then they were done. Hermione was sure they had told them everything, but Fred had another question.

"Do you know who actually did it? Who killed Blaise?"

Hermione felt her heart drop a little before it returned to its rightful place. She had seen. She had witnessed the spell cast and had somehow forgotten until the question was actually asked. Harry was shaking his head. "None of us saw it."

"I did," Hermione spoke up. "I saw it. I-"

Draco squeezed her hand. "It's all right, Hermione. Who was it?"

"It was his father," she said in a choked whisper. "Blaise's father killed him."

For too long after the second she spoke it aloud, that was all she could think of. Her schoolwork suffered, she had trouble getting food down, and every time Draco looked at her she could only see the concern in his eyes. Nothing else was able to break through. About a week before N.E.W.T.s were to start, Hermione sat with Draco and Harry in the library, attempting to complete the Defense review assignment that Lupin had given them, and mentally berated her lack of concentration.

"Dammit," she said, rifling through the books piled three thick on the table. "I can't find _Theory of Countercurse_ again. Why does that dratted book keep disappearing? Do you have it over on the other end, Draco?"

He handed it to her wordlessly. "The funny thing is, I wasn't even using that book."

"Why is that funny?" Hermione retorted.

Draco shrugged and went back to his work. Hermione leafed through the pages of the book, trying to remember the question she had wanted to answer. When that failed, she looked up from the words that seemed to have lost all meaning in time to see Ginny approaching. She waved to her. Ginny gave her a wan smile and made her way toward them.

"Cramming for N.E.W.T.s?" she asked nonchalantly.

"I suppose," Hermione answered. "Would you like to sit down with us? I could use some fresh conversation. These two have barely spoken a word between them."

Ginny glanced around the library. Her eyes paused beyond anything Hermione saw for a moment before she responded. "You know, I think I'll go sit with Colin."

As Ginny passed by, Hermione turned in her seat. Colin Creevey sat at a table by himself in the back of the room. She had nearly forgotten about him over the past few weeks. When Ginny reached him, they exchanged a few words and each of them produced a true smile. She set her books down. Afterward, Hermione was sure they did nothing but study in silence, but they both seemed the better for each other's company.

A student Hermione did not know came up behind Draco and timidly cleared his throat. "Draco Malfoy?" Draco looked at the boy and nodded. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."

Draco exchanged looks with Harry and Hermione. "I suppose that means we've finished for now. I have, at least. Hermione, you haven't even written half a page. Just stop for now. I'll see you both later, once I've found out what Dumbledore wants."

"I wish he would stop telling me what to do," Hermione said once Draco had left.

"Even when he's right?" Harry wondered.

"Especially when he's right. It's infuriating."

"He loves you, Hermione. He gives you advice sometimes; you should follow it when it's good." Harry shook his head at her. "You didn't have a problem with it before. Since Blaise died, you-"

"I'll see you later, Harry," she said abruptly, pushing her chair out. She collected her things into her schoolbag. For the first time that she could remember, she left Harry to put away the numerous books on his own. She could not stay in the library. It felt stuffy suddenly, the air was stale, and too many people were watching her.

In the corridor, she immediately felt better, and guilty for being so curt and cold to Harry. But she knew that he would forgive her, and she could not stand the library just then. She decided to go for a walk outside. It might clear her head.

She wandered without any particular direction through the grounds, here and there passing small groups of younger students lounging or playing in the sun. A few had books open and quills poised, and she almost smiled when she was reminded of herself. It was not enough to provoke a smile, and instead she simply continued walking.

Standing with his back to a tree at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Draco did not even notice her approach. He stared out over the lake with a look that was both blank and perplexed. When Hermione reached him, she took his hand. He finally glanced at her. She did not ask, but he told her. "My mother was in Dumbledore's office. Lucius is dead."

Hermione was speechless at first. It was hard to know what to say. On one hand, she had never held the slightest good feeling for Lucius Malfoy, and knew that Draco had not either. On the other hand, her boyfriend's father had died. At last, words came – though not the best she could have mustered. "Are they sure? How did it happen?"

"His body turned up at the front door of Malfoy Manor last night. He was murdered. Presumably by Voldemort himself. They are almost positive that he's been dead since the night – after the last time we saw him."

Hermione almost said _I'm sorry_, but she was still not sure whether he expected her to be sympathetic. She held her tongue and waited for Draco to speak again.

"I don't feel anything," he told her, his voice… pained? "I couldn't feel grief for someone I hated so much, but I don't feel glad either. I know that the world is a better place without him. He never did me any favors. But I don't _feel_ anything." With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself off from the tree and stepped a few paces away. "The man was my father, but he was never a father to me. If that makes any sense. The only emotional connection I had with him was loathing. I should be dancing a bloody jig on his grave!"

She pictured Harry's grim nod of satisfaction when he found out. She could see Ron desperately restraining an outright cheer. But when Hermione tried to imagine how she would expect Draco to react, nothing happened. "I don't know what to say, Draco."

"You're happy for it, aren't you? You think it's a right happy ending."

"No, Draco. It's death, no matter how you look at it. Murder, no less. It was a crime and it's horrible. I can't say I'll miss him, though."

Draco laughed; it sounded quite absurd to Hermione. "It's funny… now I could say that I know what it feels like to have a family member murdered by Voldemort. He killed my father – that's half of what he first did to Harry. But I didn't care for Lucius and he definitely didn't care for me. I _don't_ know what it feels like, because it doesn't feel like anything at all."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck. "Draco…" she whispered.

"The bastard deserved it," Draco spoke into her shoulder.

Hermione agreed, but she chose not to say so. "Draco, let's go back inside. We can go to my room or yours – it doesn't matter which. I want to get away from other people for a little while."

"My room," Draco said without hesitation. "But I want to stop in Blaise's room first."

She did not ask why. Their hands remained entwined together as they journeyed to the Slytherin dorms. Thankfully, Snape was elsewhere and could not question her presence. In Blaise's room, Draco opened a drawer and began to pull out bottles. Hermione's eyebrows drew down suddenly. "What are you doing?"

"This is Blaise's alcohol collection. He wouldn't want it to go to waste. You don't have to have any if you don't want to, but this is what I'm doing tonight." He pulled Blaise's schoolbag out from a corner and began to stuff it. The sounds of the glass bottles clinking together as Draco packed them were a kind of music Hermione had never heard.

"Let me help you with that," she said abruptly, conjuring another medium-sized bag for the rest of the bottles. Draco briefly closed his eyes, as though he had wanted her to make the other choice. She cared so little at that moment; it was her decision, and if there were ever an opportune time to drink herself into a stupor… Blaise had a surprising amount of alcohol stashed, and Draco would be the only other person around. She could think of no better circumstances – except perhaps that they were celebrating, instead of mourning.

Draco poured the contents of one bottle into two cups, to begin with. He handed one of them to Hermione. "Well," he said, sounding defeated, "what are we waiting for?" Simultaneously, they tipped their cups and emptied the contents into their mouths.

* * *

The headache Hermione experienced upon waking was, without a doubt, the most painful headache in history. She groaned and twisted onto her stomach. _At least we ended up on the bed,_ she thought.

"Draco," she called groggily. She had almost managed to open her eyes.

"Yeah."

"How much did you drink last night?" She was too tired and pained to realize that this was a strange question to start the morning with.

"A bit more than you did."

There was a pause as Hermione's mind processed this. "How much did I drink?"

Draco answered slowly, "I don't know."

Something else occurred to Hermione, and she had to ask right away. "Did we have sex last night?"

There was another pause before the response came. "I don't know."

Hermione made a nervous sound and shifted her head on the pillow. "I hope we used contraceptives if we did."

A rustling sounded next to her as Draco moved. She felt something gently touch her forehead as he muttered a word and her headache was gone. She opened her eyes. Draco lay close to her, propped up on his elbow, a bit higher on the bed than she was. It looked like he had been awake for a while. "Is that better?" he asked.

"What did you do?"

"It's a spell specifically for hangovers. Blaise taught it to me."

The silence that followed was awkward. Hermione felt exhausted, most likely from whatever they had done the previous night. Far too exhausted to feel grief. But to hear Blaise's name still cut; the image that it brought was always of him lying dead on the ballroom floor. She had never lost anyone so important to her, and had no idea how long this would last.

"Are you okay?"

"No," she mumbled. "Are you?"

Draco shook his head with the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Not really."

Hermione pushed herself out of the bed and inspected her reflection in Draco's mahogany-framed full length mirror. It was an interesting sight. "I need to go back to my room and get cleaned up," she said matter-of-factly. Without waiting for an answer, she fixed the state of her clothes and smoothed her hair. She wanted to look as presentable as possible on the walk through the castle.

Draco walked her to his bedroom door. They shared a brief kiss before she left. Just as she reached the common room, Snape passed her. He paused with a pronounced sneer but said nothing. She was long past embarrassment – and he did not take any points from her house. She continued on; the rest of the walk went without incident.

The Gryffindor common room looked as cozy as ever. The fire was blazing even though it was late May. The couches and soft armchairs were dotted with students. She did not look at their faces as she made her way toward the girls' dormitories. Before she had reached the stairs, someone called her name.

"Hermione, where have you been? We missed you at dinner. Breakfast, too," Ron said.

"I was with Draco," she replied shortly. After a glance at the clock, she realized that it was nearly time for lunch.

"It's not important. Listen, can you do me a favor? Ginny disappeared after dinner and we haven't seen her since then. Can you check her room and make sure she is all right?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course. I'll do that on my way to my room."

Ron patted her arm. "Thanks."

Ginny's door was shut. A light shone through the cracks, shifting colors every few seconds. Hermione knocked hesitantly. She heard Ginny's voice say, "Come in."

Hermione found Ginny lying face up on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She shut the door behind her and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed near Ginny's head. She placed her right hand on Ginny's hair, gently smoothing it. "How are you?" she asked.

Ginny briefly met Hermione's eyes with an annoyed look. "Do you have any idea how stupid that question sounds?"

"Yes, I do. I don't mean that. I just meant that Ron said you haven't been seen since dinner last night. You haven't eaten anything today, have you?"

"_You_ weren't even at dinner last night, but he didn't say anything about you. I doubt you've eaten since lunch yesterday, when you had nothing but a small slice of steak-and-kidney pie."

"Draco and I were busy with other things."

"Were you?"

"Not sex, Ginny. We were…forgetting."

Ginny took a few moments before she said anything. "You drank, didn't you?"

Hermione chose not to answer. She returned to stroking Ginny's fiery hair. "Ginny, you're going to have to come out. You have to eat, talk to people…"

"I was having a slow start this morning, Hermione. I've not lost all sense yet. I think that will take a little longer – a little more pain."

Ginny fell silent as one of her dormmates entered momentarily; when she left, the door remained open a few inches. With an eyeroll and a sigh, Hermione slid off the bed to remedy this. She turned and spotted the corner of a box peeking out from under Ginny's bed. Curious, she knelt to inspect it, and was surprised to find that it was the daydream spell the twins had given her.

Her hand resting on the box, Hermione asked, "You haven't used it?"

"No," Ginny answered immediately, emphasizing it with a shake of her head. "They were right, though – I would want to use it to see him again. I need to wait before I do that. Right now all I want to do is scream at him and blame him. I want to tell him that I hate him, that he is cruel for making me love him and then leaving me."

"It's natural for you to be angry, Ginny. Losing him hurt you deeply."

"But I know that these feelings aren't going to last. Anger has to be part of grief; it wouldn't make sense if it wasn't. I'm angry now, but if I spent my daydream on that, I would realize later that what I really wanted to say was something else entirely. I'm never going to buy one of those, Hermione, because if I get into the habit of using these spells to be with Blaise, I'll become addicted. I know it. That's just how much I love him. I need to use this one when the wounds aren't so fresh, when I can be rational and know what to say to him."

"I guess that'll take a while, eh?" Hermione responded. She was shocked at how much Ginny understood of her feelings. Hermione never felt like she knew anything of her own experience until she was reviewing it later on.

Ginny resumed staring at the ceiling. "I guess it will."

"Can I ask you something, Ginny?" She did not answer, but Hermione went on because she had not refused. "What do you imagine happening with you and Colin?"

Ginny whipped her gaze down in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"It's just… when girls and boys start spending time together, things happen. Gods, I don't know exactly what I'm saying. It's just that if anything does happen, it will seem that you're both using the other for comfort because you both understand grief."

"What if that's what is happening right now, and we eventually come to be quite fond of each other because of that understanding? Everyone uses people, and everyone gets used. It's the way of the world. But if we're using each other at the moment and after a time we aren't anymore, who's to say that it's so wrong?"

"Are you?"

"What?"

"Using him."

Ginny made a sighing sound. "No. To be honest, I feel a bit guilty that I haven't put more effort toward Colin before this. We were never very close, but always friendly. He's been in pain and I've hardly cared. Now, I can at least partly understand how he feels. I realized that we both need someone. I've got to spend some more time with people in my year, anyway. I've been with Blaise and the rest of you so much that some of the sixth years almost forgot about me."

Hermione gave a short, breathy laugh, but sobered quickly. "Do you think, maybe, that he's using you?"

"He doesn't have it in him," Ginny answered. "He never did, really, but less so now. He's in pretty bad shape, you know. It makes sense – if any of my brothers died…"

"I know." Hermione left the bed. "I have to get cleaned up before lunch. I'll come back on my way down and we can go to the Great Hall together."

"All right."

Hermione's room (as always; perk of being Head Girl) was blissfully empty and warm. She headed into her private bathroom for a long shower. Once she had turned the water on, however, she changed her mind and opted for a bath. As she sat soaking in the water, her body hidden beneath a layer of soapy foam, she felt all her muscles relax. For the first time in too long, she was completely at ease.

She had let grief take her over for a time, but now she was in the frame of mind to make the decision for herself. "I will not give in to my pain," she told herself. She had to say it aloud; it was the only way she would believe it.

The loss of Blaise would hurt for the rest of her life. She knew this without a doubt. _So let it hurt_. She did not have to compromise her life because of that loss. She could channel her grief into productivity – and she would. Whatever she did from that moment in the bathtub on, she vowed to do just slightly better to make Blaise's death mean something.

N.E.W.T.s would be the first obstacle between her and success. She knew one thing, as she slid a little lower in the perfectly temperate water. She would blow them all away.

* * *

Five older students stepped off the Hogwarts Express together. The brown-haired girl and the tall boy who was almost white-blond were holding hands; they were obviously a couple. Two red-haired students, a boy and girl, were certainly related. The last was a boy with very dark, very messy hair and glasses – everyone would know him on sight. He was Harry Potter.

They gathered their trunks, three of them with animal atop their luggage carts. Before they went their separate ways, they stood together on Platform nine-and-three-quarters, unsure how to proceed. One could tell, without knowing how, that they had spent most of the train ride from Hogwarts in awkward but agreeable silence.

"Well," began the red-haired boy, Ronald Weasley.

Hermione Granger, the brunette, spoke next. "When will we see each other again?"

"We'll write," Ginny Weasley, Ronald's sister, said quickly. "As soon as it can be arranged we'll all meet up."

"Oh, Ginny, I'm going to miss you," Hermione sniffed. The two girls hugged … for quite a while. The males in the group stood looking at them as they embraced, wondering whether they should begin their goodbyes as well.

"Hermione, what are you doing now? Are you going back to your parents'?" Harry wanted to know.

Hermione drew away from Ginny. "For a bit. I'm going to spend some time at Draco's this summer. I'll be going there in a few weeks. Why, you're not going back to the Dursleys, are you?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think they'd take me this time, even if I did want to. I'm going to stay at the Burrow for a while."

"Maybe Draco and I will visit you there. What do you think, Draco?"

The blond boy nodded. "That sounds like an easy way to get together. Or the three of you could come to the mansion, but…"

"It's a little soon," Ginny said. "And by a little soon, I mean much too soon. I can't go there again."

"Even if you stayed away from the ballroom?" Draco asked.

"Let's not broach that subject just now," replied Ginny, almost hissing.

Another uncomfortable silence filled in the time. At last, Hermione said, "We ought to say our goodbyes. I should find my parents." She moved toward Harry and Ron and hugged both of them tightly, one by one.

Draco held out his hand to Ginny, but she did not seem to think that adequate. She wrapped her arms around him. Surprised, he returned her hug, rubbing her back a little in comfort. When they were done, Ginny took note of Draco's unsure countenance and smirked slightly. "Don't make a big thing of it," she said.

"Of course not," he answered. "It's just unexpected, is all."

Draco shook hands with Harry and Ron. The latter two and Ginny went off in one direction while Draco and Hermione, once again linked by their hands, walked another way. A moment passed. Many more students dragged their luggage over that same section of the platform on their way back to their parents, and in no time it looked indistinguishable from any other section of the platform. But that spot would always hold a little of that moment's sweet sorrow – a parting of very close friends.

Very close friends who would always remain so, and would meet again many times in the future.

That spot saw the end of something, but more importantly, it saw the beginning.

"Life after Hogwarts," Harry Potter murmured to himself.

"I know," Ron said. "Who would've guessed we'd make it through, eh? We're luckier than we thought, I suppose." He clapped Harry on the back, and in doing so lost some control of his luggage cart.

"Speak for yourself," his younger sister interjected. "I still have a year left."

"Let's just think about getting to the Burrow, okay?" suggested Harry. The others nodded and they scanned the crowd for Mr. or Mrs. Weasley.

A voice called out, "'Bye, Harry!"

He turned. He could not tell who had spoken, but he waved anyway.

An End

A/N: I did not say _The_ End because there will be an Epilogue. However, it probably won't be anything like you think. Honestly – take a guess in your review. I bet you'll be wrong.


	21. Epilogue

A/N: I'm setting this at least five years after the defeat of Voldemort, probably a little more. See end for other notes.

* * *

The Negative Side

* * *

_Epilogue_

James Potter, known to his friends as Jamie, snarled the password at the Fat Lady and entered the common room to the sound of her reprimanding, "There's no call for that kind of tone." He could not have cared less at that moment. He was livid.

His friends Blaise Weasley-Finnigan and Penelope Porelis, having a game of Exploding Snap, looked up as he sat harshly in an armchair, throwing his bag to the floor. "What happened?" asked Penelope. (Her grandparents had been furious; not only did their only daughter Pansy marry an American Muggle-born, but their first grandchild had been Sorted into Gryffindor.)

James stared at the fire, seething, in answer.

"Did he give you another detention?" Blaise (as usual) had hit the mark.

"I wasn't even doing anything!" James exploded. "I just happened to be carrying a certain substance around with me in the hall, and Snape wouldn't believe I'd made it myself. He gave me _three_ detentions for nicking it, even though I didn't!"

"What was it?"

"What was what?"

"The substance."

"Oh, that. It was just a Shrinking Solution, I was going to test it on something outside to see if I'd made it right. Snape confiscated it, though, so I couldn't check. Of course, if he thought it was his, he probably thinks it works right, so that's something." James sighed. Sometimes having a talent for potions was not such a great thing. "Where's Morgaine?"

"The library. Of course," Penelope said, turning back to their game.

"She gets it from her mother," said James, a smile growing on his face. "Dad talks about it a lot, and Uncle Ron, and Blaise's parents, and Morgaine's dad… the girl inherited an unhealthy passion for studying."

While the others were chortling, one of the cards ignited right in front of Blaise. He jumped back and calmed the blaze with his wand. When everything had been cleared away, he noted, "That one could have burned a hole in the carpet. It left a mark. If we move one of the chairs to cover it, will anyone notice?"

"Blaise, _everyone_ will notice."

Blaise cursed. "Well, maybe Morgaine will fix it when she gets back." Morgaine, who was a year ahead of them and a compulsive self-educator to boot, knew a lot of such handy tricks that kept the others out of trouble.

"Let's have a game of chess," Penelope suggested. "That, at least, won't damage the carpet."

"It might if I play," contested James. "You know how crazy those damn chess pieces make me. Always trying to give me tips. As though I can't win without their help."

"You usually can't," said Penelope, causing that competitive spark inside James to flare. "Oh, but Jamie, I don't want to play against Blaise. He practices with his uncle, it's not even a game against him. Please, Jamie?"

James pushed his messy black hair out of his eyes. (It had taken his teachers almost two years to stop accidentally calling him Harry. At least he had gotten his mother's eyes; if he'd had green eyes there would have been no end to it. Those identity mistakes would have been on purpose if he'd looked _that_ much like his father.) "Sure. I have to prove you wrong, Antelope."

She rolled her eyes at the mocking nickname. He only ever used it when she had said something to anger or annoy him – which was a few times a day, on average. Penelope drew out the chessboard and set up the pieces with a wave of her wand. She smirked. "There. I finally got that spell to work."

"Great. Start your game of chess faster and with less effort."

"Excuse me, Blaise the Amazing Skeptic, but it takes plenty of effort. And besides, it's the same spell you'd use to pack things into a box or a suitcase, just sort of… modified."

"Where did you get this modifying spells stuff? Is this more stuff you learned from your dad – that Muggle science stuff – that you keep trying to convince us is applicable to magic? When are you going to give that up?"

"It _is _applicable to – oh, never mind. Let's start the game. I'm black."

"She's always black," muttered James as he positioned himself across from her.

Halfway through the game, Blaise suddenly asked, "Penelope… what is that under your uniform?"

"A halter top," she replied.

James looked. It was, indeed, a halter top, black and lacy and low-cut. Penelope's shirt was halfway unbuttoned to reveal it. He looked away then; he hated any situation that reminded him that Penelope had breasts. She was very attractive. That was a well-known fact. But when he had to admit it, he became very uncomfortable. To distract himself, he wondered aloud, "Why were you looking under her uniform, Blaise?"

"Well, I just looked in that direction and noticed, but that isn't the point. Where did you get that top?"

"From Marie. Your cousin." Marie was youngest child of Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur Weasley (formerly Delacour), now in her sixth year at Hogwarts.

Blaise shook his head and proceeded to sulk for the rest of their game. By the end, James had proven that he could hold his own without listening to the grating advice of the pieces (he placed a silencing spell on his set), but Penelope won.

"I don't need their help," asserted James. "I did well, you can't deny it."

"But you didn't win," Penelope objected calmly. "And that was your point, wasn't it?"

"Sod off."

"Ah, another witty retort from the loser."

"I'm warning you, Antelope…"

"If you draw your wand, you aren't going to have the chance to hex me. Mine's already in my hand."

Not surprisingly, she was right. Before James could think of a reply, the portrait hole opened to admit a fifth year with thick, incredibly smooth, pale blond hair and hazel eyes. From behind James and Penelope, Blaise said casually, "Hi, Morgaine. How was the library?"

Morgaine Malfoy surveyed the scene of Penelope and James facing off, her with her wand at the ready, before making her way to the plush furniture. As she sat, she scolded, "I've been walking in on this kind of argument since the three of you started here. Now that you're fourth years, don't you think it's time to try something new? And I see another carpet has taken the consequences of Exploding Snap." She whipped out her wand and mended the burn instantly.

A tap at the window alerted them to the presence of a large box suspended between four barn owls. James and Blaise retrieved it, leaving the owls to fly off back to where they came from. "It's addressed to you, Blaise," James said, reading the label. "It must be an early birthday present."

"Yeah, more than early. My birthday isn't for a few months." He set about opening the box. As he peered into it, a sly grin blossomed on his face.

"What? Who's it from?" Penelope asked.

"My uncles."

"Which ones?" prompted James, excited.

Blaise grinned around at them. "Fred and George."

James shifted closer to help Blaise inspect the gift. There was a note inside, from which Blaise read with a laugh, "We sent this on now because we weren't sure it wouldn't take two months for the owls to get it to you."

As the investigation of the box's contents proceeded, Penelope asked Morgaine, "What have you been researching?"

"Voldemort," answered Morgaine. No one looked up, since even first years had done at least one essay on the former Dark wizard. "My essay is on how he lost power. I have a lot of facts concerning the frenzy in which he began to kill his own followers, and we all know the story of how Dad and Bianca's brother turned a surprising number of Slytherins – and those from other houses who held those beliefs – away from Voldemort. But there's nothing at all about how he actually died."

"That book of mine's not a help?" James wondered.

"You mean that book of your mother's?" Morgaine retorted. Technically, she was right. The inside cover read _Property of Katie Bell Potter_. Still, James was annoyed. As long as it was in his possession, he would call it his book. "No, not much. It's got the date, of course, and it says 'Harry Potter managed to bring Voldemort down.' But it doesn't say how, and that's what I'm looking for."

"Good reason, too, why it doesn't say it," James muttered. "You might want to give up on that idea. You won't find anything about how he was killed. No one ever found Voldemort's body, so they couldn't tell by examination how he died. They did find a piece of it, though."

"What piece?"

James hesitated. "His heart. Lying in a pile of robes. It was withered and looked kind of charred."

"Where'd you hear that from?" asked Penelope.

"I overheard Uncle Draco and Uncle Ron discussing it one time when I got up to get a midnight snack. But they didn't know more than that, either."

"Why is it such a mystery?" Blaise interjected, peeling his eyes away from the pranks his uncles had sent long enough to contribute to the conversation.

"That's simple enough," James said. "No one else was present when Dad killed Voldemort, so there are no other witnesses. And Dad refuses to talk about it. I don't think he even ever told Mum what happened."

"Couldn't you ask him, Jamie-?"

"Morgaine, just forget it. He wouldn't answer, and I might get in trouble just for asking."

"What would he do?"

"Not him, my mum. I asked once when I was eight, and she wouldn't let me eat sugar for two weeks. That was painful, it was."

"Why'd she punish you?"

"Dad doesn't like to think too much about that time. She gets mad at anyone who reminds him."

They lapsed quickly into silence, listening to the rustling of packages of magical jokes as they all wandered amid their own thoughts. Then, abruptly, Blaise provided them with a distraction. "Hey Jamie, do you want to get that Shrinking Solution back?"

"Yeah, I'd like to. But Snape'll search my room if he finds it missing."

"He won't miss it," said Blaise.

James looked up, intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

Blaise's wide smile infected the rest of them, and they gathered to hear his plan.

Fin.

A/N: That's the end! It's taken me quite a long time to finish this story. This epilogue alone… it just took me too long to start, but once I did it was quite fast. And I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out.

Side note: I know Snape left Hogwarts in the 6th book, but this was started pre HBP so the whole thing was written with Dumbledore present in Harry's 7th year. So I figured I'd leave Snape around to torment the next generation of Potter. Also, someone once commented in a review about the low prices of things in the first chapter. The explanation for that is that I didn't know the currency exchange between Muggle and wizard money, so I estimated Galleons to be worth a lot more. So just imagine that I put a reasonable price in there instead, okay? Thanks.

You probably could figure it out, but I want to make it absolutely clear which parents belong to which children:

Blaise – Ginny and Seamus Finnigan

James – Harry and Katie Bell

Morgaine – Draco and Hermione

Penelope – Pansy Parkinson and my fabricated Muggle character who doesn't have a name.

I don't have much more to say. So, thank you, everyone, for reading my story, and for those of you who did review thank you SO much for your reviews, I love reviews (HINT people who didn't review). I'm glad you appreciate the different course this story takes from most other fanfics. I did…

Time for me to go… if you have any other questions you can email me. :)


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